Betrayal
by Archaeologist
Summary: QuiGon Jinn was dismissed from the Jedi when the Senate decreed cost cutting measures. What the Jedi didn't know then was that the Senate was under Sith control. 10 years later, Jinn is accused of illegal activities. ObiWan Kenobi and padawan investigate.
1. Prologue 1: But

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**_Betrayal _**

**Summary**:  
Qui-Gon Jinn was dismissed from the Jedi Temple when the Senate decreed cost cutting measures. What the Jedi didn't know at the time was that the Senate was under the control of the Sith. It is now 10 years later and former Jedi Qui-Gon Jinn is accused of illegal activities. Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi and his Padawan are forced to investigate.

**Other stuff**:  
TPM never happened and this fic takes place at the same time as AOTC.  
Rated PG. Drama.  
Definitely AU, and Qui-Gon Jinn is in his mid-sixties. Hey, it could happen.  
This means _thoughts_, this means //_telepathy_//

**Disclaimer:**  
I do not own Qui-Gon Jinn or Obi-Wan Kenobi or the Star Wars concept; Lucasfilm does. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No credits have changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Prologue 1: **_But..._ **

_Force, I'm tired_.

Closing his eyes, Qui-Gon Jinn leaned back against the wall and sighed, heavily. _Tired, bone-tired, fatigued, worn out, exhausted, I wonder how many words there are for just plain tired._ He sighed again, feeling the air pass through his lungs, soothing him and listened to the silence.

It was quiet in the Temple hallway, the lighting subdued. It was almost peaceful enough to sleep right there but Mace Windu had wanted to talk. And so Qui-Gon waited patiently outside of the Jedi Councilor's private office until Mace could see him, using these few moments to catch up on some much needed rest.

His mind began to wander as the minutes dragged on and Qui-Gon drifted closer to sleep. Why Mace would want to talk was a puzzle. The report on their latest mission had been given this morning and, although there were plenty of questions, the Council seemed satisfied.

_Probably there's another crisis and Mace just wants an immediate rescue by the Great Jinn_. He smiled sourly. _My, aren't we full of ourselves_. But he sobered quickly, thinking back over the past month.

This last mission had been a disaster right from the start. He and Obi-Wan had just returned from trying to avert yet another diplomatic upheaval, exhausted in mind and body, needing desperately to rest, when they were hauled into the Council chambers and told to go stop a war. They had arrived on Scalous with scant preparation, still worn and tired when the whole thing exploded literally in their faces. Barely off the Republic cruiser, they were pelted with blaster fire, bombs bursting around them. Racing through the streets, fighting at every turn, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were finally able to reach the so-called peace talks only to find most of the delegates dead. After that, it had been a nightmare of staying alive while trying frantically to get some semblance of order. Nothing worked and, at last, Qui-Gon realized the futility of further action and called the Jedi Temple. They were picked up the next day. The Council was not happy about the results. For that matter, neither was Qui-Gon.

"Not our finest hour." he murmured.

Moving slightly to get more comfortable and wishing for someplace to sit, Qui-Gon wondered what was taking Mace so long and then let his thoughts drift again. He was so tired. _The missions seem to be getting rougher. Or it could be the fact that I'm getting old and have been running and fighting most of my life. At least, Obi-Wan seems to recover quickly. Oh, to be that young again_.

A moment later, Mace's door slid open and out stomped a very angry Jedi Knight. It was Ales'tka, a slightly-built older woman, well known for her prowess with the lightsaber and gentle diplomatic skills. Qui-Gon knew her slightly, passing one another over the long years, but was astonished to hear her shouting. Shouting at Mace.

"You haven't heard the last of this, Windu. How dare you treat me this way... how dare you." She growled in fury and turned to storm off. Not looking, she crashed right into Qui-Gon Jinn. Seeing his puzzled face, she scowled, "Oh, no, not you, too". With that, she pelted off down the corridor, muttering loudly.

Qui-Gon turned to follow her, hoping to offer some comfort, but Mace said, "Let her go. She'll be all right." And he motioned Qui-Gon into his office.

"Take a seat." Mace's voice was subdued. As he sat down behind his desk, the Jedi Councilor couldn't quite look Qui-Gon in the eye. The beginnings of concern slithered down Qui-Gon's back as he eased into the only other chair in the room. It was still warm. Obviously, Ales'tka had been sitting in this very spot for some time.

Qui-Gon knew that he needed to speak up now before Mace tried to talk him into yet another mission. He had to be firm this time for his sake and for Obi-Wan's as well. He leaned forward, trying to capture Mace's attention.

"I just wanted to tell you that I can't agree to any more missions for a while. Obi-Wan and I are both exhausted and need some time to refresh ourselves. A vacation or retreat for at least a month. The Council, as you know fully well, has been assigning us to constant missions for the past year and a half and no breaks in between. I doubt that we have spent two days at the Temple in all that time. Frankly, Mace, you know what the field is like. You can't keep sending out teams that are exhausted even before they leave. It is not effective and can lead to great mistakes in judgment. I'm serious, Mace. At least a month."

At first, Mace Windu seemed astonished by what he was hearing. But emotions running from confusion to sad to stoic left his face shuttered and drawn. He finally put up his hand to stop Qui-Gon.

"Qui-Gon Jinn, that is not why you are here. We will not be assigning you any missions."

Qui-Gon interrupted him, a slight admission to his fatigue and leaned back in his chair. "Glad to hear it. Obi-Wan needs to complete his final studies for the Trials in six months and fieldwork is not helpful in that area. So why did you want to talk to me then?"

Mace's face only seemed to grow more closed and unhappy. He lowered his eyes for a second and then raised them, frustration and pity and resolve flitting across his face. His voice was firm.

"Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, as per the Senate Appropriation Jedi Finance Edict 1237, we have to reduce the number of Jedi Knights at the Temple by ten percent. Due to your poor record in the past year, the Senate oversight committee has designated you as one of those to be discharged."

Qui-Gon frowned, confused. "Discharged? What are you talking about?"

Mace grimaced. "We can no longer financially support all of the Jedi. We will have to turn away over a thousand knights to live life as they can, away from the Temple. Unfortunately, because of your failures recently, you were chosen to be one of those to be released."

"But... "Qui-Gon looked thunderstruck, incomprehension and confusion mirrored in his eyes.

"Qui-Gon, I had no say in the matter. The Senate Oversight committee looked over all the records of the last ten years. In the past year alone, your team has failed its mission twice."

"But, out of 21 missions, twice is more than acceptable."

"I agree wholeheartedly but the Committee does not. Any failure is considered grounds for dismissal. I am truly sorry, Qui-Gon."

"But... "

Qui-Gon was stunned. The Temple was his home, his family, the only life he had ever known or wanted. And now he was being told to leave.

It was incredible. It couldn't be true. It was some ghastly joke. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Qui-Gon just sat there, mouth open, eyes unfocused as Windu continued.

And his words kept coming, garbed, nonsensical. What was Mace saying? He couldn't focus on what was being said. The words came out confusing, and almost without sound. He frowned, leaning in, and tried to listen more carefully.

"You will be given a severance allowance consisting of two weeks pay for every year of service after you became a Knight. You will also receive your pension in a single sum. You will be given three sets of clothing befitting a civilian and a one-way ticket to any destination you choose within reason." As he spoke, Windu was placing items on his desk, a thick packet of paper, a credit chip and a passage ticket. "The clothing is in your room already. Please leave behind your Jedi garb. You will not be allowed to wear it or perform the duties of a Jedi Knight when you leave the Temple. If you do, the Order will have to take action. You must leave behind your lightsaber as well. It is 1600 now. You have until 2100 tonight to vacate the premises. Do you understand?"

It was quite a while before Qui-Gon realized that Mace had finished talking. He blinked several times to brush the tendrils of confusion and anger beginning to surface. He shook his head and frowned at him.

"I don't understand. What Finance edict? Why are you turning me out of my home, cutting me off from my family? What about Obi-Wan?"

The Jedi Councilor was no coward. He had faced death more times than either of them could count but even Qui-Gon could tell that Mace hated what he was doing.

"Qui-Gon, I know it's been a few dozen years since we took Galactic Finance class but the principle has remained the same. In the early days of the Jedi Order, we were financed mainly by donations but over the last thousand years or so, the donations dwindled to almost nothing. Now we are under the auspices of the Republic Senate and the credits needed to run the Order have come from them. The Senate is demanding the right to check our financial situation and make the Order more efficient. There were several subcommittees formed to investigate where and how the money is dispersed. Over the last ten years, the Senate has passed bills insisting that we reduce our expenses."

Qui-Gon shook his head, still stunned. He leaned further in towards Master Windu, anger lining his face. "How dare they? They do not listen to the Force's will. They are bureaucrats with no knowledge of how or why we exist. What is going on?"

Mace sighed. "I agree but the Order must comply with the wishes of the legal government. They have threatened to cut off all credits if we do not accede to their demands." He sighed deeply, obviously upset but it would seem he had no choice. "We have tried everything to cut expenses. The heating and lighting were reduced, the food became simpler, the classes are larger, some of the gardens were allowed to die or turned to food production. More missions were placed on fewer Master/Padawan teams because it was cheaper. We have done everything possible to reduce expenses. There is nothing more we can do but to let people go."

"But...how is this possible? What about the younglings, the Padawans? What about Obi-Wan?" The confusion in Qui-Gon's mind remained. The numbness blossomed, threatening to overtake his thoughts and turn him into something deadened and mechanical. He just sat there, unable to move, unable to think, unable to...

"What about Obi-Wan?" he demanded, anger rising anew.

Mace avoided the more difficult question a second time. "The children will continue to be taught as they always have. The Senate can do nothing there since the parents and the Order sign a contract when the child is given up. We must continue to care for them and train them until they succeed in graduating to a full time position as Knights, healers or some other profession. After that, they will be evaluated each year and remain in the Order or else move on."

"But, this is unbelievable. We are servants of the Force, not some non-profit organization that caters to the whims of the bureaucrats. And you haven't answered me. What about Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon's face hardened.

Mace sighed again. "Obi-Wan will take his trials next week. We are sure that he will pass easily and become a full-fledged knight. As a way of reducing expenses, he will be required to take a Padawan immediately and go out on missions as quickly as possible. He will not be allowed to contact you for at least six months and, of course, you will not be able to contact him."

Qui-Gon leaned forward again and began shaking his head, more and more angrily, his hands curling into fists as though ready to throttle the Jedi Councilor. _Not allowed to see my Padawan. Not even to go through the Knighting ceremony._

He began to mutter and growl at Windu, the fury rising. "Not allowed to see him. _Not allowed?!_ How dare you do this? It's bad enough that you have taken away my life, my home but you are taking away the child that I raised. I love my apprentice, he is my family and now I can't even see him. How could you?"

Mace lowered his eyes and sighed yet again. "Qui-Gon, it's for his own good. You are angry and likely to get angrier before this is all over. You can't let him be dragged down with you. It was hard enough getting the Senate committee to see reason about just letting you go. He was part of your team and they wanted to get rid of him as well. Back off, Qui-Gon. Do what is best for Obi-Wan. Accept this, please."

Mace's voice was pleading, trying to cut through the thick fog surrounding Qui-Gon's soul. He couldn't comprehend what was going on, the words again tangling in his confused mind. The fury had abated, leaving him numb and depressed. _What am I going to do?_ He shook his head, slowly. _Do what the Force wills as always._ But the Force was strangely silent, and he was alone.

Qui-Gon got up from the chair, slowly as though he were a thousand years old, and turned to leave.

Mace Windu spoke softly, "Qui-Gon, I need your lightsaber now."

Qui-Gon nodded, unhooked the saber he had built with his own hands so long ago and looked it over carefully, memorizing the look and feel of it. He closed his eyes, swallowed hard, and handed it to Mace. There were unshed tears clouding his vision when he opened them again.

"Mace, I will always be a Jedi, until the day I die. A Jedi is not defined by clothes or wielding a lightsaber or rescuing people. The Senate cannot dictate who is a Jedi. The Order cannot dictate who is a Jedi. Only the Force."

Mace spoke again. "Yes, Qui-Gon. I know."

As he again turned to go, Mace placed the discharge papers into Qui-Gon's trembling hands and whispered a final farewell. "If it's any consolation, I will be leaving tomorrow."

Qui-Gon shot him a quick pitying look. "Goodbye old friend." And left Mace's office for the last time.

Qui-Gon walked slowly back to his quarters. He heard nothing, saw nothing, the thoughts running around and around in his fogged brain. _Leave my home. Leave my life. Leave... leave... leave..._ The echoes hurt his heart, the pain only now beginning to blossom in him. _How can I leave this place?_ When the door to his apartment unexpectedly materialized in front of him, Qui-Gon was taken aback. He had no memory of how he had gotten there.

He started to go in but then hesitated. Once past that door, he would have to pack his few belongings and never return. Worse, he would have to tell Obi-Wan what had happened.

Suddenly, Qui-Gon dreaded the coming emotional storm. He wasn't ready to hurt Obi-Wan but he knew that he must. Breathing deeply to rid his mind and body of the anger, despair and exhaustion threatening to overwhelm him, he tightly controlled his emotions and opened the door.

It was a letdown but Obi-Wan, thankfully, was still asleep. Qui-Gon sighed. He knew that he was avoiding the final confrontation but he turned into his own room and began to pack. It didn't take long. Qui-Gon was never one to collect "things" but he had a few items, a drawing from Obi-Wan, a cup from Tahl, a rock or two from previous missions with his Padawan that were too precious to leave behind. He looked at the clothes on his bed. They were typical civilian attire, not ones that he would have chosen but the choice had not been his. He began to strip off his Jedi garb, lingering on each piece, remembering the past. Again, his anger surfaced and he pressed hard to bury it. Now was not the time. At last, the Jedi robes, tunics and all that he had worn lay on a pile on the floor.

_Let them pick it up,_ he thought bitterly. _I need to get clean and clear of this place_

He showered and changed into one of the garments on the bed. He had chosen at random, not caring. To Qui-Gon, they were ill fitting, pulling at the arms and legs, scratchy and uncomfortable. He thought darkly, _Get use to it, Jinn..._ His mouth hardened. _But I'm taking the boots!_

He packed the rest of the clothes in his bag and closed it. _Such a small container for so long a life_.

The depression was threatening to overwhelm him again, but rather than give in to it, Qui-Gon moved to the table in the sitting area, sat down and started to look through the dismissal papers.

He was not happy with the results. The "pay" that a Jedi received was mostly in food, clothing and shelter at the Jedi Temple. A small stipend was usually granted to all for additional items. When he calculated the total sum of his severance pay and retirement, he was aghast to find that it was so paltry. The whole of it wouldn't even pay for six months rent on the mid-levels of Coruscant. Perhaps, it might buy a small farm in the Outer Rim Territories but nothing closer. A Jedi never needed to think of money; everything was provided so that he could concentrate on the Force and on the missions. Now, Qui-Gon needed to think of what to do next. He couldn't live on this, not here. He rested his weary head in his hands and softly groaned.

A small sound made him start and turn. Obi-Wan was leaning in the doorway, yawning.

He sounded exasperated as he asked "Master, did you get any sleep at all? You know you need to get some rest." He stopped and looked more closely. "Why are you wearing civilian clothes? We have another undercover mission?"

Qui-Gon avoided the questions. "Padawan, sit by me, please."

Obi-Wan looked at him and sat down, frowning. "What's going on?"

Qui-Gon smiled slightly. He loved his Padawan very much, as a beloved student and remarkable friend. He would miss him terribly but the truth was ripping, tearing at Qui-Gon's heart. _Tell him now_.

"Obi-Wan, I have some good news for you. You will be taking the trials next week. When you have passed them, as I am sure you will, the Council would like you to take a Padawan learner immediately."

Obi-Wan's face lit up. He leaned forward happily, grinning, "Next week... Oh, I'm ready, Master. I'll make you proud."

"I am already proud of you, Padawan. Trials do not need to tell me that you will make a great Jedi Knight."

Obi-Wan smiled even more merrily. "When you cut off my braid at the Knighting ceremony, I'll remind you of that..." He stopped, grin suddenly gone and looked at Qui-Gon, perplexed. "Master, what's wrong?"

Qui-Gon's face had gone pale and something in his eyes died. He whispered, "I won't be there, Obi-Wan."

"What... What do you mean, won't be there? Of course, you...are they sending you on a mission alone?" His Padawan frowned. "Is that why you are wearing those clothes?"

Qui-Gon sighed wearily and shook his head. "I won't be there because..." His throat tightened so much that he could scarcely speak. "They are turning me out of the Order. I have to leave tonight, never to return."

"But...why?" Obi-Wan's voice crackled with astonishment and confusion. His frown deepened.

The Jedi Master laughed bitterly. "They ran out of money."

"But..."

Qui-Gon shook his head again. "They have been using Republic funds to help defray costs of the Order. They are now being forced to economize by the Senate or else lose all funding. And they can't afford to do that right now." He sounded more bitter than before. "They have sold their souls for a few credits."

He stood up and began to pace. "They are dumping about a thousand knights, discarding them to live as best they can. Oh, we are given a few thousand credits for leaving but it is not nearly enough to live on, especially here." He stopped and looked at Obi-Wan with tears in his eyes. "They took my lightsaber, they took my Jedi garb, they took my calling and worst of all, they took away my Padawan."

Obi-Wan reached out and gripped his Master's hand, still confused. "You aren't making any sense. How can they take me away from you?"

"Padawan, I am not allowed to contact you again."

"What!?" Obi-Wan's anger was almost palpable.

"If, after six months you wish to speak with me, you will be allowed to. However, I don't think that is a good idea."

"Master, you are not making sense again. Why shouldn't I?" His anger was fraying into confusion.

"They are punishing anyone who fails even once." Qui-Gon placed his hand upon his Padawan's shoulder and smiled slightly. "I know that you will not fail. But they may think that you are tainted by my failures or my defiance of the Council's orders. You can't afford to contact me."

"I don't care about that."

"But you must think about it. I will leave word with my brother. If, after the time allotted, you still want to speak with me, he will know where I am. But, Obi-Wan, I will understand if you do not." Qui-Gon's eyes filled with tears again. "I will understand."

Obi-Wan stood quickly, his mouth pinched in disbelief, his eyes defiant. He reached down and grabbed his Master's shoulders, shaking him. "Well, I don't. Master, you must fight this. It isn't right. They can't do this." The Padawan's words came fast and furious. "Fight them. You must."

"Obi-Wan, it is already too late."

"No, no..."

"Yes, Padawan. Too late by far. Not for me, I will be all right." Qui-Gon smiled slightly, trying to give encouragement and defusing Obi-Wan's anger. "But for the Order, it was too late the day they acquiesced to Senate jurisdiction. The day they put credits over the Force and rewarded loyalty with dismissal. They have brought fear into the Temple, Padawan, and trust is now gone. It's too late."

"No" the apprentice whispered. "It can't be."

"Accept this, please" Qui-Gon's words echoed Windu's earlier statement. _Maybe Mace understood better than I thought._

"No." Obi-Wan's face was dark with anguish as he shook his head.

"Padawan, help me. Do this one last thing. It is time for me to go. Escort me out."

Obi-Wan nodded and then flung himself into Qui-Gon's arms, hugging him fiercely, trying not to cry. Qui-Gon wrapped his arms around his apprentice in a enveloping embrace, trying to memorize this moment, warm in the love of the only family he had ever really known. They remained like that for a while, unable to let go, wanting to make it last forever. But nothing lasts forever. Qui-Gon drew a deep breath and shook his Padawan loose.

"Come, Padawan. It is time."

"But where will you go? What will you do?" Obi-Wan tried to make the moment last just a little longer.

Qui-Gon picked up his bag and opened the door. One last look and then he turned towards the exit, breathing deeply as the weary weight of this day settled onto his shoulders. He called back to Obi-Wan, "Coming?"

"Yes, Master."

"Just to the exit door of the Temple. No further."

"Yes, Master."

"I will be all right. I might become a bodyguard or a bouncer in a dancehall."

"Or a pirate..."

Qui-Gon laughed at that. "Yes, my young Padawan, or a pirate."

And suddenly, there they were, at the exit of the Temple. Qui-Gon dropped the bag and wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan one last time. "Be strong, Obi-Wan. You are my strength and my joy. Watching you grow into the Knight you will become has been an honor. Remember me."

Obi-Wan laughed quietly "How could I forget? Who else would give their Padawan a rock for their birthday?"

"Who else indeed?" Qui-Gon smiled and whispered. "Goodbye. And may the Force be with you." He picked up the bag, went through the door, not looking back, trying not to hear Obi-Wan's voice catch as he whispered back "Master, the Force will be with you always."

The Temple door closed behind him.

And Qui-Gon Jinn was alone.

Turning to look at the home now forbidden to him, Qui-Gon Jinn was overcome with a wave of exhaustion and regret. Slumping down onto the stairs, he drew his legs up and curled into himself, wrapping his arms around his torso and letting his head rest on his knees.

Tears crept down his face as he muttered, "Force, I'm tired." And then, with his resolve crumbling and the loss overwhelming him, Qui-Gon whispered, "What am I going to do now?"

He sat there a very long time. Then knowing that he couldn't stay, Qui-Gon Jinn, until a few hours ago a Master in the Jedi Order, rose, picked up his bag and walked slowly away. His footsteps faded little by little and finally, the night was quiet.


	2. Prologue 2: Hunting for Reasons

_Two weeks later…_

**Prologue 2: Hunting for Reasons**

"You look tired, Padawan." The gentle voice chided. "Perhaps you should…"

Unthinking, he bit back, "I'm fine, Master Tharten."

Obi-Wan froze then, fuming at the recklessness of his foolish behavior. He had not meant to be so surly. Cutting across her words with all the brutal finesse of a razored vibroshiv was not prudent. He knew this. But at times, lost somehow in the bone-deep ache of loneliness and grief, it seemed as if he no longer cared. And it showed.

Watching Master Tharten's eyes narrow and her blued skin splotching grey with annoyance, he knew that he had overstepped his bounds. Trying to make amends, trying to get past this moment, trying to force back the blasted punishing headache that had plagued his every waking moment since that bitter day, Obi-Wan Kenobi, once Padawan to the legendary Qui-Gon Jinn and now desperately alone, lowered his eyes and bowed slightly. "Forgive me, Master. I am a bit... unsettled."

_Yes, Kenobi, that's it. Unsettled..._ The irony was not lost Obi-Wan. Unsettled was a fitting description of both his life and that of the Jedi Order's chaotic changes in the last ten days.

Unsettled and it had all begun with one act of simple betrayal.

On the face of it, it was absurd that the Jedi had run out of money. The Republic, in all its wisdom, decided that the _extravagances_ of the past were no longer acceptable. Accountability, organization and strict adherence to the rules of law were the new watchwords. The Order was no exception. Faced with stunning cuts in their budget and the demands of the Senate, they began to dismiss their own people in droves. Hundreds were terminated, forced to leave their Jedi family and the only home they had ever known. Qui-Gon Jinn was one of the first to be expelled. He had surrendered without a fight, too stunned to do anything but ask Obi-Wan to remember him. And then he was gone.

Savagely, Obi-Wan suppressed his simmering outrage at the memory of that day but a measure of aching guilt crept through. _He should have taken me with him. Damn him for leaving me here and damn the Force for making me stay._

With a quick feminine cough, Master Tharten reminded him that he was not alone. He realized that she was waiting, impatiently waiting for an impudent upstart of a Learner to regain his center. After all, he was a Jedi, not some confused little initiate; he was expected to be above such petty concerns as the loss of his Master - no attachments, nothing but loyalty and duty to the Order.

Silently asking for forgiveness of his old mentor, he bowed his head once more.

She smiled then. "My dear Obi-Wan, anyone can see that you are more than just unsettled. It is perfectly understandable, of course. The stresses of these past two weeks have taken their toll on everyone in the Temple."

"Thank you, Master. I appreciate your concern." But the lie tangled in his throat, silencing him.

Turning away for a moment, his eyes caught on the rippled square of darkened window. Beyond, there were flashes of light as never-still traffic swooped and jigged into mesmerizing lines of streaking brilliance; the buildings nearby were splattered with windowed luminescence that imitated the starry night sky above - light and love and life. But all he could see was his own reflection in the glass, haunted eyes and drawn face and a loneliness so entwined in his spirit that there were no words to describe the feeling.

Hoping to find some semblance of peace, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and tried to push back the regret that threatened to undo him. He knew that he would endure because he must, because the Force demanded that he do so. He would endure as he had for the past ten days, as he would for all the days to come.

But Master Tharten was speaking again. She would not leave this or him alone. "I know that it seems that the pain of not having your Master here at the Temple is overwhelming to you but it will pass in time. You must understand that what happened was in the best interests of the Order."

Her comments seemed surreal, full of hidden meaning, but he was too tired to try and decipher them. He knew that she held great power within the new Jedi Order. He knew, too, that it was not prudent to annoy this newest Councilor, the one many said would be the next person to head the Order. Obi-Wan Kenobi understood that this woman held his fate in her clawed hands. It was best to let her guide the meeting and reveal the true reason why she was here.

One thing was certain. She was not here to comfort him in this time of sorrow.

Turning to face her, he nodded slightly, his face a perfect mask of obedience and duty, "Of course, Master Tharten."

Smiling at the apparent acceptance of her concern, the woman continued, "You realize that we had to set your trials back for a short while for your own sake. You did not take the dismissal of your Master well, young one."

Frowning, his voice chilled the air. "It was a mistake."

She did not pretend to misunderstand him. "Obi-Wan, this is beneath you. I was assured that you understood the need for the Order to reorganize. Our financial problems are dire. We had no choice but to dismiss your Master." When he said nothing else, she reminded him, "Padawan, he was not the only one who lost their position that day."

Heavily, he replied, "No, he was not."

It was true. The entire Council had been removed, dismissed, terminated. Impossibly, in one fell swoop, the wisest beings in the Order were gone. Only Master Yoda escaped but he did not remain within the Temple - retirement was the convenient excuse of the Senate.

And the dismissals did not just end at the Temple. The Jedi in the field had also felt the sting of termination. His own friend, Garen Muln, had been knighted one day and expelled the next. It was efficient and ruthless and so very wrong.

But this woman, this Councilor, did not seem to understand how he felt - about this tragedy or her role in it. Perhaps she did not need to know how he deeply mourned the loss; perhaps she only needed his acceptance of what was.

She smiled again at his continued silence. "But now that the Order has reorganized and been made leaner and more efficient, we are looking for promising young Knights to lead the Jedi into a new day. One that is brighter and more lasting than the old creaking relic of the past."

"Brighter?" Tamping down at the outrage bubbling just below the surface, he deliberately gentled his reply. But the emptiness and grief still bled out. "The Order has dismissed hundreds of Knights. The rumors speak of more. How can you say that we are better for their loss?"

She moved to stand beside him. Grasping his shoulder, just as his Master had done a few short weeks before - oh how the memory hurt, she spoke firmly. "We have dismissed those who would bring us down."

He stepped back, crossing his arms about his chest in a valiant attempt to keep the revulsion at bay. _How could she say this? How could she be a member of the High Council and believe such filth?_

But she prattled on, oblivious to his pain. "They had failed over and over again in their assignments. The Jedi are greater than those incompetent fools and we are better off without them. Besides, the Senate made it quite clear that if we did not terminate them, the entire Order was in jeopardy."

Her voice was perfectly reasonable - almost as if she were discussing flavors of tea, not abandoning Jedi like tainted meat. "The loss is tragic, of course, but we must prevail. The Jedi Order must continue."

When he said nothing else, she stepped forward again. "But now we need your help, Obi-Wan."

He had not expected that. Startled astonishment colored his voice. "My help? I am only a Padawan, without even a Master to guide me. How can I help you?"

Her narrow face broke into a sly smile. Obviously, he had asked the right question. "Tomorrow, you will face your trials and I am sure that you will succeed."

She leaned forward then, and reaching out, caught his braid on one hand and gave it a brief tug. He was too shocked to do anything but stare at her in disbelief. One more tug and she let it go, patting it flat. The smile widened, and she looked at him as if she were about to give him some wondrous present.

"When you do, the Council has an assignment for you. I grant that it is a fairly easy first mission but once you have completed it and returned, we will begin to help guide you to make the right choices at the right time. You are a bright boy, Obi-Wan, and we recognize this. With specialized training and certain high-profile missions, it should be easy for you to climb through the ranks of the Jedi Order, and when the time is right, to join us on the Council."

If it were anything, Obi-Wan had not expected this. He could not breathe for a moment. "Council?"

His bewilderment only seemed to amuse her more. Her smile grew wider. "You must realize that members of the High Council are groomed into their positions. Only those whose thinking is right, whose philosophy matches that demanded by the Senate will be selected to lead the Jedi. I believe that you could be one of the greatest of them all."

"Master Tharten…." He didn't know whether to laugh or throw her out of his quarters in disgust. The whole idea was ludicrous. That he would agree to help, to head an organization that treated its people so poorly - what did she think he was?

"Oh, don't thank me now. I've been watching your progress for quite some time. I know that Jinn was holding you back."

Obi-Wan's astonishment did not include listening to her insult his Master. "Qui-Gon Jinn would never hold me back. I'm sure that you are mistaken, Master Tharten."

The Councilor looked at him then, her beady eyes narrowing in speculation. It was clear to see that she was not pleased with his reaction. "Your defense of that old sarlacc does you credit but I have eyes to see. And others agree with me. In the briefings after your last four missions, it was clear that you did not agree with Jinn's assessments or actions. Your _Master_ was letting your future wither away to further his own ends. And if you were left in the dust, well… loyalty is commendable but don't let it get in the way of reality, young Padawan."

"I... don't know what to say."

She stared at Obi-Wan, watching silently as Obi-Wan floundered about, unable to articulate his gratitude as much as she had obviously expected. Impatiently tapping one finger on her arm, she was plainly annoyed with him. Perhaps she thought him incredibly naive about the workings of the galaxy, perhaps she felt that his training under Jinn was woefully inadequate. Whatever the reason, she did not let him stand there quietly for long.

"Think on it. It could be a great opportunity for you. Being on the Council is not all reports and boring meetings, you know. There is real power there. You could make a very large difference with the right attitude and the right connections. Be one of the leaders and help bring the Order into its full glory."

"I..." He started to thank her but she cut him off suddenly.

"I've been watching you for a very long time, Obi-Wan." She started to lean forward, to pull on his braid once more but he moved back sharply. Shrugging, she turned toward the now-black window and watched his face in the glass. "I'm sure Jinn never told you but I wanted you to be my first Padawan." When he said nothing but gazed at her with stunned eyes, she smiled slightly, "But Yoda wouldn't allow it. Said that your destiny lay along a different path."

Folding her arms about her, her voice ringing with frustration and thwarted agendas, she spat out. "I could have accepted that if he had chosen someone else for you, anyone else. But Jinn of all people. That man's failure with duCrion and his constant battles with the Council. Frankly, the whole business with Xanatos was a scandal. And then the way he treated you. Quite unacceptable." Her furious eyes met his in the reflection. "Luckily, you were strong enough to overcome even Jinn's influence. Your last several reports spoke very clearly of your devotion to the Code and to the Jedi."

"Master Thartan, my Master was a great Jedi. He... "

Snorting with derision, she shook her head. "Your loyalty does you credit, Obi-Wan, but he was a minor player, barely worth mentioning. With his history of failed missions and his attitude toward the High Council, it was a wonder than he wasn't terminated long ago." When he moved to defend his Master again, she waved one manicured hand in his direction. "Come, come Padawan. Let's not quarrel over something so trivial."

"It's not... forgive me, Master Tharten. I had no idea."

The Councilor nodded, regally accepting his unspoken thanks with studied dignity. "Of course not. I certainly could not speak of it before now."

"I will give it some thought." Expected words and insincere sentiment - Obi-Wan silenced his shame.

She smiled slightly at his evident capitulation. "I hope you do, Obi-Wan. Don't let Jinn's misguided beliefs taint you or your record. It could lead to disaster for your career and your life here with the Jedi."

"I would never ignore the will of the Force."

Master Tharten looked uncertain for a moment as if she pondered his words and found them wanting. But she must have known that she had the upper hand because the predatory smile reappeared. "Good. Well, I'm glad we had this discussion. And I look forward to your participation in making the Jedi Order into the greatest organization in the Republic. You have a great future if you choose the right path."

"I appreciate your candor and your belief that I might one day sit on the Council. I know that my place is here; the Force has made that very clear to me over the past several days. I want you to know that I will do my duty and perform to the best of my abilities. You have my word on it."

More shallow words and Obi-Wan began to burn with dishonor. Dissembling has always been too close to deception and, no matter that he might be saving his own skin and following the will of the Force in this, the lies seemed to burrow into his blood.

"Excellent, Padawan. Just the attitude we are looking for." She turned to him then and watched his face carefully.

"There is just one more thing."

_Ah, the real reason for the visit_. All the talk of Councilships and training was merely a lure to draw him out. Obi-Wan held his breath. _First the temptation and then the whip._

Master Tharten's eyes hardened into stone. "My operatives tell me that you have been asking questions about your old Master - where he is, what he's been doing. I want it to stop."

"But I thought… " Obi-Wan's anxiety melted into confusion and hurried excuses. "Master Tharten, please. I'm worried about him. He hasn't tried to contact me and..."

She cut him off, the chill in her words unmistakably sharp. "Kenobi, did you listen to anything that I said? This is not the acceptable behavior of a future High Council member. Jinn is your past. Don't throw away your future for an old fool."

But what she said didn't make sense. Qui-Gon had been promised that Obi-Wan would be able to contact him after six months. It was in the dismissal papers, clearly marked out. True, he had tried to find his Master within days of his departure but he didn't think the difference in the times would be important enough to notice. He needed to know that Qui-Gon was alive and well.

"Master Tharten, I'm concerned about him. After all, he was my mentor for over twelve years."

The air frosted with glacial cold, shards of ice in her voice. "Frankly, you disappoint me, boy. Do the right thing and this concern of yours will be overlooked. Choose the wrong path..." The threat hung clearly in the air.

Swiftly, astonishingly, Tharten grabbed his braid and pulled. Grunting in pain, the ache of the still-present headache mixing with the slow agony of twisting hair, he was forced to bend closer to her frowning face. She spoke softly, hissing snake-song, each word distinctive and demanding. "Above all, don't go hunting for Jinn."

The burn of tears held back threatened to undo him but he would not lie about this. "I can't promise that."

"Listen to me, Kenobi." The pull on his hair grew stronger, sheeting agony as skin began to tear. But she did not let go. "I have made certain suggestions to the High Council. And they accepted them since I had indicated that you were of a like mind and would cooperate. Don't make me look the fool, boy. Embrace the new Jedi Order and you will go far. Do not and... I can be a very powerful friend. I can be an equally powerful adversary. Don't make me the enemy. Am I clear on this?"

"Very clear, Master Tharten." She let go then and he scrambled quickly back, out of her reach.

"I hope that you do understand." Between one moment and the next, the ice demon had fled and once more the reasoning, helpful Master of the Jedi High Council appeared. Obi-Wan watched her with stunned eyes. "The new Order will prevail and you will be part of it, one way or another."

Master Tharten picked up her cloak and shrugged it on. As she reached the door, she reminded him. "And now I have other matters that need my attention. Think on what I have said. You could have a brilliant future. Choose wisely."

When she had swept from the room, when Obi-Wan was alone at last, one shuddering breath was all it took before he slumped forward, resting his pounding head on the cool darkened window. Closing his eyes in relief, he tried to fight both the fierce headache that threatened to crack his skull into shards of bone and blood and his fragile equilibrium. This had not been his finest hour.

And now he needed meditation, meditation and a calm center as much as any thirsty man needed water in the desert. But he knew it would do no good.

In the days since Qui-Gon had left, he had sought guidance within the Force over and over again. But the message was always the same. Stay with the Jedi. Endure the dying light until all would be revealed. Endure whatever comes. But the reasons, the visions never showed anything but grey morphing into an infinity of black.

He could not follow in his Master's footsteps, not yet.

But how he wanted to...

Obi-Wan knew now just what was at stake. Tharten was bold but there were others on the Council more subtle and just as treacherous as she. He would have to walk a fine line. But he would travel down that road because it was what his Master had taught him - to obey the Force in all things. It was the way of the Jedi. He only hoped that he could live up to all he had learned, that he would not falter in his resolve.

But in one thing, he would not yield. He would find Qui-Gon Jinn and when he did, it would be a joyous reunion indeed. Of that, he was very sure.


	3. Chapter 1: And so it begins

_Ten years later…_

**Chapter 1: ****And so it begins**

"Do you have it?"

His low, harsh voice growled in sibilant tones, hemorrhaging a cold, repellent vibration into the icy night air. No one would have dared deny that voice, and the few that did had died for their efforts, in excruciating and prolonged agony. As the malevolent sounds vanished in the echoing silence that followed, the speaker shifted slightly, arm extended to grasp his latest prize.

"Yes, my Master." The dark-cowled apprentice bowed, and dropped his gift neatly into the waiting hand of the other.

As Darth Sidious moved again, the light spilling from the luminous Coruscanti night briefly lit his face. Jarring in power-mad intensity, the Dark Lord's visage had been called grandfatherly, a kindly man some said, with cobalt-blue eyes and generous mouth slightly turned upward in a politician's smile. Here the shroud was stripped away, the eyes dead-cold, the smile snake-bright.

The Master peered at the item, satisfied. It was a woman's hand, once delicate, fingers now shredded, flesh ripped open between thumb and forefinger to show veined sinew and harsh bone. Burned, too, across the top with long straight strokes, the hand was encrusted with the reddish-brown remains of old blood, and curled slightly inward as if trying to grasp a weapon in the last moments of her life. It was cauterized neatly at the wrist. The hand had just begun to decay, the slight sickeningly sweet odor of death.

Slowly, Darth Sidious began to stroke the corpse's palm, following her torn lifeline with his manicured fingertips, lightly, intimately, moving with a delicate touch. Then, still faintly smiling, he brought the putrid hand to his face and stroked his cheek with it. He could smell the rot, almost taste the sharp metallic tang of dried blood.

His sigh was breathless, long and low, sensual. As he closed his eyes, briefly he could feel in the Force the fear and power in her final breath. The memory of the Knight's crushing anguish and defiance even as her body was torn apart was imbedded in her skin. To Sidious, it was profoundly satisfying.

After a few moments, he lowered his arm, still gently holding the dead woman's hand in his. "Did she give you much of a fight, my apprentice?"

Darth Maul's tattooed visage creased with a dark pleasure, mouth twisted eagerly. "Yes, my Master. Ales'tka fought well. Even at the last, in agony, she seemed to enjoy the struggle." His eyes shut for an instant, his voice rumbling with suppressed laughter. "Playing with her was most...stimulating."

"Did you dispose of the body as per my instructions?"

"Yes, my Master." Maul hesitated, then reached into some fastness of his cloak and brought out a lightsaber. It was as battered and torn as the woman's hand and covered with the same encrusted residue. "She used this."

The Dark Lord's bark of laughter was clear, ice-sharp. Looking again at the decaying appendage, he shook his head in disdain. "Oh, little Jedi. They threw you away, forbid you anything of them and you still clung to..." He glanced at the fouled saber, clutched in Darth Maul's grasp. "Ales'tka, you defied the Jedi Council. It speaks... well of you. Too bad you could not be turned. You would have been a valuable asset."

He tossed the filthy remains to the apprentice. "Enough of pleasure. Put that with the rest."

Maul nodded briefly as he tucked away the decaying flesh and then offered up the lightsaber to the other. Sidious sneered, "You make keep your trophy. She won't need it again."

With a dismissive shrug, Sidious brought out a datachip and handed it to his apprentice. "Here is the list of Jedi discharged from the Temple six months ago. They should be ripe for the picking by now. As always, the Jedi Council will not be paying attention to those gone from the Temple that long. They have too much else to worry about..."

His voice was icy with contempt. "Isolate and destroy these fools as with all the others." He looked at Maul, contemplating all the lovely, exciting, terrible ways to kill a Jedi. "Dispatch them as you like, but don't take too long. There are other matters that need attention."

Maul nodded again and growled, "My Master, there is still the matter of Jinn and his associates. They are too well guarded and more flock to him every day."

Sidious pondered this revelation. "Yes, it has been difficult. He is a wily opponent. But I have decided to let the Jedi Council deal with him." Maul moved to object but stilled his protest as his Master glared at him.

"Do you question me?" The malevolent voice was low and insistent, death waiting, longing to strike; his apprentice quickly shook his head.

"Good." Sidious smiled, "I enjoy the irony of the Temple punishing one of their own without our having to lift a finger against him. I will have my agent suggest it." He looked out into the vibrant, glowing Coruscanti landscape, his gaze sweeping over the distance and stopping at the brilliantly-lit Temple in the distance.

"I'll have them send Kenobi. Yes, Kenobi should be just the Jedi to dispatch Jinn." And Sidious began to laugh, deep, roiling, vicious sounds sweeping out into the bitter night.


	4. Chapter 2: Enter stage left

**Chapter 2: ****Enter stage left**

The Jedi Council chamber was bathed in the mellow-red glow of sunset, crimson light splashing across the ornate floor. Circular in design and majestic, with pillared windows framing the onset of coming night, the room was a breathtaking center of calm and beauty, the very heart of the Jedi Temple. The dying light hid well the worn tiles and cornered dust of neglect.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight, ignored the bleak evidence of his eyes and the brilliant glare of blood-red luminescence streaking across his face. The siren call of the lights of approaching night did not tempt him. He was here to be briefed on his upcoming mission, not look at the increasing decay that was the Jedi Temple. And so, standing in the very center of the Council Chamber, arms folded, face stony and shuttered, mental shields up, Knight Kenobi waited and watched. By his side, his Padawan, Atel Sl'etah, stood as well, silent and ready for the briefing to begin.

Obi-Wan glanced at his apprentice, frowning slightly. Atel was nearly 20 now, with brown eyes and maroon hair, a slight purple tint to her skin but otherwise human. Dressed in typical drab grey-beige tunics, frayed chocolate robe, and worn boots, she looked threadbare and destitute. Only the lightsabers truly indicated that they were Jedi and even the sabers were shabby, showing signs of much use.

_Damn_, Obi-Wan thought, s_he looks like a refugee, not a respected member of the Jedi Order_. His frown deepened. _She deserves better than this. If only I could make them understand that money spent on proper clothing is not a waste of resources. Appearances do matter to those in power_.

Looking down at his own tattered garb, he grimaced, _I don't look so wonderful myself_.

His thoughts turned towards Atel again. It did not seem possible that she had been his Padawan for ten years. _Had it really been that long?_ mused Obi-Wan, _ten years since the first of the dismissals, since the beginning of the strangulation of the Jedi Order over money_. He snorted silently, _It was always about power, never money_.

Closing his weary eyes for a moment, he gently sighed, _I wish that things had been different._

The Jedi Knight tried to bring his thoughts back to the matters at hand but he was tired, exhausted really, and he knew Atel was, too. They had only just returned from a grueling assignment a few hours ago. That one had been disastrous all right but somehow, somehow, they had managed to pull out a success from a very near failure -again.

_Now_, Obi-Wan reflected wearily, a_nother task and another and another. How can they expect success every time when they keep pushing us beyond the limits of endurance?_ He swayed slightly. _Perhaps because they want us to fail?_

That was an uncomfortable thought, but it wasn't the first time he had pondered the question. It made sense, too, with the exhausting workload, the back-to-back missions, doing the work of two or three teams and no one to pull the Jedi out when they got into serious trouble.

He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed out a slow, resigned sigh._ And here we go again_.

He thought that his actions would not be noticed. But his ever-alert Padawan glanced towards her Master and sent a gentle pulse through their bond. //_Focus, Master._//

Obi-Wan sent her a weak chuckle tickling back. And then he centered himself, breathing deeply, settling in to wait for the briefing to begin.

As the seconds stretched into endless minutes, Obi-Wan began to wonder why they were still waiting. He said nothing, of course. It was up to the Council to decide when and how briefings, or for that matter any discussions within these chambers, were to be conducted. Perhaps they were waiting for more information; perhaps another Council member was to join them.

Perhaps it was a subtle form of power play, to impress upon this Jedi Knight just what his place in the Order was.

At the moment, Obi-Wan noted that only three Jedi Council members were in attendance, none of whom he knew well. Kenobi began to feel the slightest pinprick of apprehension. The white-furred Bothan, Trest Sle'fey, head of the Committee for Jedi Missions, was known for his strict adherence to the letter rather than the intent of Republic law. The green-tinged Rodian, Veendo, was in charge of Sedition Activity Investigations, a group that had grown recently, much to Obi-Wan's dismay, looking into all aspects of Temple activity with great alacrity. The last, the Head of the Council, Master Sera Tharten, was a tall blue-skinned human female of indeterminate age. She was exceptionally outspoken on the uses of Temple regulation control and had written the stringent, restrictive code for 'Standards for Jedi Behavior' instituted last year. Of these, only Master Tharten had had any significant interaction with Obi-Wan. And those confrontations had been unpleasant; he avoided her whenever possible.

The Masters were all youngish, too. No older, more experienced Councilors - knowledge yes, but there was no wisdom here, only likely punishment for petty and cryptic infractions.

Obi-Wan's tickle of unease began to increase to a full-blown itch. This was not going to be pleasant. Silently sighing, he wondered what marginal offense he would be accused of this time. Unlike his former Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Kenobi was not known for bending the rules, but he had been tainted by association and it had gotten him into trouble on more than one occasion.

For a few more long moments, no one spoke. The Jedi Councilors shifted uneasily in the rounded chairs as though anxious to be away. Then, from behind Obi-Wan, a derisive voice sounded.

"Do you know why you have been called here, Jedi Kenobi?"

"No, Representative Zaros." Obi-Wan quietly replied to the rat-faced, overly-dressed man.

Making his way ponderously around the dusty, darkening room, his ornate red robes glistening with fine embroidery and sparkles of light as he strutted past the bars of fading luminescence, hair perfectly in place, Kenth Zaros came to stand before the Knight, his condescending, narrowed eyes boring into him. The garish gemstones in the man's cravat alone were blinding.

Obi-Wan's words had been perfectly polite and did nothing to betray the absolute loathing that he felt for the foppish, decadent human. Luckily, Zaros was not a Jedi or else Obi-Wan might have faced a severe reprimand for his wayward thoughts, and a reprimand these days was not a thing to take lightly.

"We have a special mission for you, one for which you are uniquely qualified."

Zaros smiled slightly, paused and then, deliberately sat down next to Master Tharten, not in the guest chair reserved for Republic officials but in a seat that should have been used by the Jedi Council members only. _Not there,_ Obi-Wan's thoughts raged, _not there. You have no right._

He moved imperceptibly, almost in protest, and then eased back to ready stance and waited, tight fists clenched under his threadbare Jedi robes. He breathed out, trying to get some semblance of control of the almost involuntary wish to throttle the man, and swallowed hard. When Kenth Zaros, Senate Representative of the Oversight Committee on Jedi Affairs, smiled, misfortune certainly followed.

Obi-Wan's revulsion spiked, his thoughts on a fast jumble of past missions, of the anguish and death that this man seemed to relish. He tried to tamp down the roiling emotions before the other Jedi seated in the chamber could become aware of them and comment. His Padawan hastily glanced at him, an admission that she was reading her Master far too well.

"We want you to investigate..." Zaros paused for dramatic theatrical effect and Obi-Wan's simmering apprehension skyrocketed. But when he said nothing, was silent as stone, the degenerate bureaucrat continued, "Qui-Gon Jinn. Your old Master, I believe."

Obi-Wan went absolutely rigid with shock, shields buckling for a brief moment before regaining his calm. Zaros's smirk grew predatory, his beady eyes glittering, and he nodded as if pleased with the traumatic effect that he was inflicting on the Jedi Knight.

He replied softly, "Sir, I have had no contact with Master Jinn for ten years. I have repeatedly asked to be allowed to do so but every request has been refused."

Zaros snickered and waved his bejeweled fingers, flicking an imaginary piece of dust from his glittering ornate robes. "Yes, I know. He was a bad influence on you. It was in the best interests of the Jedi Order that contact be denied."

Obi-Wan moved again, stepping towards the Senate representative, furious eyes narrowed with revulsion. His voice was low, cold, dangerous. "What do you mean by that?"

The Rodian Council Member spoke up, dismissively, "We all know that Jinn was a rogue." Obi-Wan's eyes widened in stunned disbelief, angry beyond words as the other Jedi members murmured in agreement with Veendo's assessment. "Again and again he went against the Jedi Council, following his own path, ignoring the direct orders of his obvious superiors. It was blatantly, openly rogue behavior. And, what's more, it was sedition of the worst kind. "

Obi-Wan could not believe what he was hearing. If possible, his voice iced further. "He was following the will of the Force."

The Rodian snorted. "So he said."

Obi-Wan closed his weary eyes for a moment, trying desperately to regain what little calm remained to him. He knew if he protested too much, he would be punished and Atel as well. For her sake, he breathed deeply once, twice, but the bile rising in his throat, anger pushing past all reason. He had to regain control.

Voice dripping with derision, Zaros spoke up again. He seemed oblivious to what Obi-Wan was feeling, or perhaps not caring. "Good riddance to bad rubbish. Damn old fool."

Zaros had done many things over the years, to both Obi-Wan and to his beloved Jedi Order. This last statement was almost too much, a small thing among all of the other countless injustices, all the deaths and destruction that this man had wrought on the Jedi. Now, Obi-Wan stepped quickly forward, shaking hands rising. The Bothan barked out, white fur whirling in dismay. "Yes, Kenobi, you have a comment?"

Obi-Wan Kenobi stopped abruptly, looked at his alarmed young apprentice and, then with shoulders slumping, stepped back into the center of the Chamber. Quietly, he said "No, Master Sle'fey."

"Good. I would hate to have to reprimand you for any insolence shown to the Senate Representative."

"Of course, Master."

Zaros continued as if nothing was amiss. "Glad to hear that you will be cooperative, Kenobi."

"Of course, Representative Zaros." Obi-Wan clenched his aching jaw at such an impossible lie but knew it would suffice for now. But he would have to release his anger to the Force soon. His wearied thoughts turned to the request at hand. "May I ask what the mission is and how it pertains to Master Qui-Gon?"

"Former Jedi Jinn has been doing the work of a Jedi Knight these past years in strict violation of his mandate." Leaning forward, Zaros thrust his immaculate, manicured hands into the air, frowning and splattered his words into the chamber, sneering voice rising with emphasis. "Jinn's dismissal was very clear as you well know, Kenobi. He defied the Council again and again and what's worse, he failed a number of times to complete his missions. When the cost-cutting efforts started, and with his failures and attitude, it was clear that he would be one of the first to go. He is no longer with the Jedi Order and he is not allowed to act as a Jedi. He must desist his current activities. You have been chosen to investigate and bring him into custody, if necessary, because you know him so very well. Who else but you?" The man leaned back, satisfied, a fat crimson arachnid spinning his cruel web.

Obi-Wan Kenobi murmured, "Who else indeed?"


	5. Chapter 3: Past Lives

**Chapter 3: Past Lives**

The briefing, if it could be called that, lasted another grueling two hours. Aside from the cutting, snide comments of Master Jinn's unworthiness and roguish behavior from Council member Veendo and admonishments on maintaining proper 'Standards of Behavior' at all times from Master Tharten, Kenth Zaros had gone into inordinate length condemning Qui-Gon Jinn's current activities. But there was little real information about those activities. In the end, the Bothan Master, Sle'fey, carelessly tossed him a datapad with a terse command to read it. Obi-Wan was seething by the time it was done.

After the Council Chamber doors slid closed behind them, Obi-Wan and his Padawan made their slow way towards the turbolift. He may have been tired but the boiling adrenalin was coursing through his veins now and he needed to... to break something very large and very expensive, preferably something that made a great deal of noise when it shattered.

His young apprentice kept glancing at him and shaking her head in dismay. She spoke softly, "Well, that was fun." Atel gave him a shy, quirky smile and he sensed that she was trying unsuccessfully to divert him from his anger. He wasn't willing to give it up just yet.

A little furrow line marked his brow, the frown only pulling in the painful effects of the last few hours. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, trying unsuccessfully to stave off the exhaustion. The fury, too, remained, swirling in his braincase like some hungry beast, steel claws tightening their ferocious grip. An intense headache blossomed suddenly, agony shooting across his eyes, arching around and down to the base of his skull. He moved his shoulders in a futile attempt to release the stress and tension to no avail.

It had not been a good day.

He rubbed his eyes slightly, in one last attempt to push the pain aside and then, gesturing towards the turbolifts, he told his weary Padawan. "I need to walk for a while. You go back to our quarters and get some rest. I'll be along shortly."

But Atel had other ideas. With quick, feline grace, she moved closer and touched his worn sleeve. "Master, I must respectfully disagree. The last thing you need right now is exercise." He glared at her for a long moment. "You know we're both exhausted. Come back with me. Rest," she grinned slyly, "and I'll make you a nice cup of tea."

Obi-Wan snorted at that. Tea would not relieve his concerns or that blasted fury lingering behind the pain. He needed to walk - no, run as far and as fast as he was able - needed to do something to lash out at the incredible injustice of it all. But he could not, would not. That's not what a Jedi Knight would do. He smiled slightly at his concerned apprentice, her brown eyes searching his face.

"Padawan, I truly appreciate your concern but I must do this, to think about what just went on in the Council chambers. You can go back to our quarters if you wish or you can come with me. Your choice."

"My place is by your side, Master." Her words seemed to echo forever in the darkening hallway. Another Padawan had said those very words to his Master and meant them, meant them then and meant them now. Obi-Wan blinked away sudden tears. _Ten years. Ten years since I last saw Qui-Gon? How is that possible? I should have tried harder to contact him. I should have made sure he was all right. Will he understand the circumstances? Do I? Do I have enough courage to look my Master in the face after a decade with that shame?_ Growling, he slammed down hard on his thoughts. Now was not the time for this. When he saw Qui-Gon Jinn again, there would be moments enough for regrets and apologies.

"Come then."

With one last longing look at the lone working turbolift, Atel sighed lightly and fell into step beside her weary Master. They turned as one towards the stairs and began the long, slow descent towards the living quarters.

As their footfalls echoed into the hollow depths of the deserted stairwell, Obi-Wan pulled at his ragged cloak and tried to ignore the neglect. It seemed chill here and dark, the dusky space strobing with dim light as the glowlamps flickered randomly. The litter of time hung in forgotten corners, paint peeling in places, the railing worn and in need of repair. They had both seen better kept dungeons.

The constant twists and turns of the stairs seemed to give him comfort, though. Obi-Wan's pain lessened as his body remembered to step ever downward, concentrating on soothing movement rather than the intolerable tension of that ghastly meeting. He felt more at ease, centered, accepting that the future may hold trials and problems but this moment was for living.

At last, when they reached the residential level, when they finally sprung from that dim place, Obi-Wan seemed preoccupied. He stopped, looking about him. Chuckling slightly and startling his puzzled apprentice, he gestured toward the stairwell and its battered durasteel door.

"I remember this place so well. Did you know that I met my Master for the first time by that door? Or rather the door met him..."

Her brown eyes grew wide as Obi-Wan reached with one hand and caressed the ancient metal, gently following the lines of misuse with his fingers. "We, Garen and I, were trouble-makers even then. I couldn't have been more than seven or eight, devious as sin and bent on breaking every rule at the Temple."

He gave a quick, warm laugh. "I had bet Garen that I could race all the way down from the Council Chambers faster than the turbolifts. He was skeptical, of course but accepted the wager. What he didn't realize was that I had pressed the buttons for every floor as I raced away, running headlong down these very stairs. I would have made it, too, if a certain Jedi Master hadn't gotten in the way." He laughed again. "I don't know who was more surprised, Qui-Gon or me."

Shaking his head, his grin widened. "You should have seen him, the staid Jedi Master flat on the floor, hair wild, his blue eyes smoky with anger. And me, sprawled on top. I'd tripped on his legs, of course. Once he collected himself, he grabbed me as quick as lightening, holding me by the scruff of my tunic, bending down to see what hooligan had dared pull a fast one."

"I was terrified. He was renowned, a brilliant swordsman, said to be the best in living memory and I was just a stupid kid who had gotten caught. I expected to be scrubbing the Temple floors from here to the top of the tower but he surprised me." Obi-Wan's face was relaxed, his eyes alight with remembrance. "Qui-Gon stared at my face for a moment, then looked at the door and I knew somehow that he had figured out what I had done. Just then, Garen raced up and began to berate me for cheating, never noticing that a Master still held my tunic. And, his eyes, my Master's eyes, grew bright with mischief as he looked at us, quarreling, making accusation and counter-accusation. I couldn't believe it when Qui-Gon began to laugh. Stopped us both cold. In the end, we were all laughing and then he let us go. Last thing I remember about that day was peering back at Qui-Gon as he walked away, chuckling and shaking his head."

Obi-Wan's face grew still. "That was before Xan's fall, of course, when he was still happy. It took me a long time to help him bury those demons but that day, I made him laugh." His eyes closed briefly in despair and loss and then he peered at Atel, sighing. "How I miss him." "

But…." she stood rigid with shock, "Master, I thought you hated him."

Now it was Obi-Wan's turn to be stunned. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

Atel looked thoroughly confused, gazing down at the floor for a moment and then into Obi-Wan's questioning eyes. "Forgive me, Master. But you never talk about your old Master. You've never said a word about him. I thought you were ashamed to be trained by that rogue Jedi."

"Rogue?" Obi-Wan's choked on the word. His voice grew harsh, his face hard as stone. "Don't ever call him that again."

He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the pain that came roaring back, spiking with intense urgency. He knew he should not be berating his Padawan like this; she had told the truth from her perspective. But to hear such accusations coming from her mouth after the Council's lies, it was too much. "Go back to our quarters. I will discuss this with you when I have calmed down."

"But..."

"Now, Padawan."

She nodded and turned, dejected. Obi-Wan stood, arms crossed, face scowling and watched as she scurried away. Then he leaned against the door, shoulders slumped in weary bewilderment.

"Blast! I shouldn't have done that. Why would she think such a thing? How could she? Qui-Gon a rogue? Never!" Gritting his teeth, he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to will away the pain and exhaustion. But it did no good. "Damn the Council for this mess. And damn Qui-Gon for leaving me here."

Still unnerved by his Padawan's accusations, Obi-Wan knew that he needed a sanctuary, somewhere safe to try and capture his lost serenity, to find his calm center. He yearned for a place of quiet meditation. Contemplating his limited options in these troubled days, a warm thought came to him. It was obvious; he knew just where he had to go.

The Room of a Thousand Fountains was ancient, older certainly than living memory, with a quiet beauty that was timeless and breathtaking - bubbling streams and stunning vistas, roaring waterfalls and cool breezes. It was the one sanctuary known to all.

To Obi-Wan, it had always held a special place in his heart. So much of his past, so much history had taken place within its lush confines, both good and bad. He knew it would be the perfect place to find serenity again.

Smiling, he moved towards the distant gardens, past the living quarters, past the empty crèches and the silent gymnasiums, past all the problems that had plagued his heart. When, at last, he reached his destination, he paused outside the ancient carved wooden doors, savoring the moment, welcoming the thought of all that greenery pulsing gently with the Living Force. He knew that much-needed tranquility was just beyond the ornate doors.

He was so wrong.

As he pushed the heavy doors wide, an overwhelming glare of harsh lights blinded him. Thrusting an arm upward to cover his now-tearing eyes, he noticed the artificial hum of mechanicals, the smell of rank fertilizer and grim taste of crushed greenery. He could not believe his eyes.

Gone were the rivers, streams, swaying trees and flowers of every kind. Instead, row upon row, ever upward, as far as the eye could see, were the plants and fruits of commerce. They had turned his beloved sanctuary into despised Bandomeer, into an agricultural factory. He stood there, stunned, swaying with disbelief.

Scrubbing at his eyes to wash away the appalling vision, he looked again. Plants filled the entire space, orderly rows of vegetables, vines heavy with fruit hanging along the sides of the terraces as they mounted up towards the ceiling, exotic herbs swaying in the breeze. Every space conceivable was filled with the green of industry. Nowhere were the stone pathways, the swards of grass, the gentle grace of blooming flowers... nowhere.

He must have made some small sound of protest. A human-sized droid, obviously in charge, floated up to him. "Master Jedi, you should not be here."

"What... what happened? Where is the mediation garden? What have you done?" Obi-Wan's voice was rising, almost in panic.

"Master Jedi. Please leave or I will have to call someone in authority. Go now, sir." The droid was polite but adamant. A mechanical arm swept out, grasping the Jedi's cloak and gently but firmly led Obi-Wan out into the corridor. Releasing him, it turned without a backward glance, and closed the door.

The clang of locks turning in place, sealing the space, echoed in the darkened hallway. Obi-Wan just stood there, mouth open, eyes unblinking. He breathed a small protest and then seemed to fold into himself, legs buckling as he collapsed onto the tiled floor. Pulling his legs up, hugging them as he moved into a fetal position, burying his face in his hands, Obi-Wan sat there. He sat there for a very long time.


	6. Chapter 4: Punishment doesn't always fit

**Chapter 4: Punishment doesn't always fit the crime**

His apprentice found Obi-Wan slumped in front of the ancient doors some hours later. Apparently, Atel had become concerned when he did not return and, ignoring his strict orders to remain in their quarters, hunted him out.

"Master, it's time to come back." She pulled at him, grabbing onto his unresisting arm, tugging insistently. He just looked at her with exhausted eyes, shaking his head. "Come on, Master. You can't stay here. If you do, they'll just punish you again. And me with you." With a final upward wrench, she managed to get Obi-Wan to his feet.

He stared at her, wounded and confused. Low, harsh, his voice raspy with disbelief, he nodded towards the doors. "Did you know about this?"

"Yes, of course. The rumor mills have been buzzing about it for months."

"Why? Why did they do that? It was so beautiful."

"You must be joking. Why? Money, of course. The Senate has just cut the allotment again. The Council needed the money to maintain the Order. It was that or more dismissals."

"Not again."

"Come on, Master. We can't stay here and discuss this. I've got tea brewing, even as we speak." With that, Atel pushed her exhausted Master towards the living quarters. They both knew they could not discuss Temple matters in the monitored hallway; it might be considered seditious and they were in enough trouble with the Jinn mission coming up.

She pulled and pushed and prodded him and, at last, they tumbled into the tiny common room of their apartment. Obi-Wan collapsed onto the small couch, giving a slight oomph sound as he sat down. Atel moved to the kitchenette and brought forth the promised tea, gently placing it into her Master's trembling hands. He just stared at it for a while, watching the steam rising in the cool air and, then dipping his face downward, took a small sip.

"Thank you, my young Padawan. It's very good." Obi-Wan leaned back as his apprentice hurriedly propped a pillow behind his head. "How did you know where to find me?"

She shrugged. "You often talk about that garden and I remember walking there with you many times. I thought that you might go there to meditate." She looked down and then into his exhausted eyes. "I'm sorry about the gardens, Master. I know what they meant to you."

"I suppose it's better than more dismissals." Putting the tea down, he used one hand to push against his temple in a vain attempt at easing the headache that continued to pulse and throb under his skin. He needed to get a painkiller but not yet, not yet - not until he apologized for his behavior to her.

"I..."

"Yes, Padawan?"

She knelt before him, a picture of perfect penitence, and bowed her head. "I'm sorry, Master. I should not have spoken so to you."

"Atel, you did nothing wrong."

"I must humbly disagree. I knew we were both tired and you were upset. I just didn't realize..."

"My young apprentice, I repeat, you did nothing wrong. I had no idea that was how you felt about Qui-Gon." Atel looked up at him with brown eyes, her face haggard. She shook her head.

"I should have been more mindful. You never talk about him. I just assumed..."

He pulled her up and gestured to sit by his side. His arm came around her in a sharp hug, then released her and took her small hand in his own.

"Atel, I never talk about him because it hurts too much to do so. He was my mentor, my Master, almost a father to me. When he was dismissed, I was devastated, heartbroken and alone. I couldn't believe that they could do something like that to this great man." She frowned at that but said nothing as he continued, "He told me not to contact him, that it might hurt me to do so. Hurt me? There he was, thrown out of the Temple , his only home, almost penniless, and he was worried about me. I ignored his advice, of course. How could I not?"

He shook his head at the memories. "At first, I requested information about him every day. And every day I was told to mind my own business and not be concerned with people no longer within the Jedi Order. After a couple of weeks, I grew frantic and began to make my own discreet inquiries. I guess I wasn't too discreet because they found out. I was hauled before the Council and told in no uncertain terms to stop what I was doing. I bowed slightly and left and began again to make inquiries. I was more guarded this time but they must have had surveillance on me because I was brought again before the Council. This time they sent me for punishment." Atel made a small gesture of dismay.

"Oh, the Council does not harm those people they wish to punish, not physically, at least. That would be barbaric and the Council is anything but that." He couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice; he shook his head at the chilling memories. "They sentenced me to a day in the cells at the bottom of the Temple." Atel looked confused again.

"You've never been there, I know. I made very sure that you were never to blame whenever punishment was meted out. The cells are Force-shielded so that no Jedi could escape - at least that was their original intent. When you are put into the cells, it is as if the Force does not exist and you are alone. But… but... it was more than that. They must have enhanced the shielding or put in some type of augmentation device for amplifying emotions in an escalating feedback loop, maybe as a test of will or control. I don't know. I would have thought that some inkling of that type of device would have leaked out - the rumors should have been running wild but there was never a whisper. Maybe it was experimental. I don't know. But whatever they did, whatever they used, it was extremely effective."

He took a deep shuddering breath and stared straight ahead. "In there, blind and deaf to the Force, you feel smothered, unable to breathe, panicking in that awful place, intensely claustrophobic, your whole being screaming for escape. The walls seem to close in, ceiling collapsing, mind wailing from the panicked echoes of the fear and torment of those who have been there before, and you are alone, so alone. It drives some insane with that loss, especially those trained within the Order from early childhood."

Obi-Wan shivered. "After a day in there, I would have done almost anything to avoid it again. Almost. But within a couple of weeks, I renewed my attempts to find out what I could about Qui-Gon. And again I was caught. Punishment this time was three days."

He stared at her, pain scrabbling behind his eyes, pulsing, pulsing around his neck and temples. He shrugged, "After that, I became very sneaky. It took them almost six months to find out about my little investigations. This time, punishment was a week."

"I am a coward, Atel. I couldn't..." Obi-Wan looked down, ashamed, "I couldn't face that again. I stopped looking."

"But, Master, you said in the meeting, that you had repeatedly asked about Master Jinn."

"I have asked every chance I could over the last ten years but the Council refuses any contact. I had hoped to talk with him, with or without the approval of the Council." He frowned down at her, memory of the loss husking his voice. "Ten years, Atel. The best man I have ever known and I let him down. How can I face him again after all that time?"

"I don't know, Master. Perhaps he has changed."

"No, not Qui-Gon."

"Master Obi-Wan, it has been a long time. Former Master Jinn is accused of crimes against the Jedi Order. Surely, he must have done something to merit this investigation. And he is, after all, a rogue Jedi."

Obi-Wan stood abruptly, towering over her, his hands clenched as he tried to keep his fury at bay. It didn't help that his headache was spiking hard against his eyes or that he was more exhausted than he'd been in a very long time.

"Never a rogue. I told you no."

Looking bewildered, Atel said, "Master, please. We were told he was a Jedi gone bad and dismissed for that very reason. My last class in treaty negotiation went over the circumstances several times. It's the truth, Master. Qui-Gon Jinn went rogue and was thrown out of the Order because of it."

He was stunned into silence. As he stared at his apprentice with disbelief, his legs buckled and he sat down hard. He tried to find that calm center that he needed so badly and he breathed in deeply, once, twice. Then quietly, distinctly, firmly, he said, "Atel, listen to me. I was there all the time, for every mission. Qui-Gon Jinn never became a rogue Jedi. You have been taught a lie. The question is - why are they lying about it?"


	7. Chapter 5: Friends long gone  part 1

**Betrayal - Chapter 5 Old friends long gone**

Part 1

The two day flight to Naboo proved to be a boon to the weary Jedi. With no badgering sycophants, no cryptic admonishments for proper behavior and no life-threatening stops along the way, there was finally time to rest, a surprising gift after the exhaustion of endless missions.

"There you are, Padawan." Obi-Wan wore a slight grin as the still bleary-eyed Atel moved into the common area of their tiny accommodations. "I was wondering when you were going to get up. You've been asleep almost a full day and there is much to discuss."

He didn't tell her that he'd let her sleep in. The ship was decadent enough and the beds even more so. She'd had so little luxury in her life that he'd wanted her to experience it at least once before going back to grinding duty. Even he had been reluctant to get up.

She just grunted in response and moved to get some juice from the table. "Master, how is it that you always seem so...awake in the morning?"

He shook his head in fond remembrance. "You think I get up early? You should have seen Master Qui-Gon. He was always up with the dawn."

The mention of the former Jedi brought a quick frown to Atel's features but she turned away, apparently to try and hide her reaction from Obi-Wan. He could see that she was still troubled. She had seemed so uncertain when he'd insisted that Qui-Gon was no rogue. And she had protested that her teachers hadn't lied, that she would have felt it in the Force. Their talk had ended on a shaky note – no real information but only more questions to be answered.

Hopefully, this mission would do just that.

She must have felt his gaze on her because she schooled her features into one of calm concern. Looking down at the datapad, lying loose in his grasp, she said, "Maybe you should tell me about the information on former Master Jinn. I assume that it is complete."

He shook his head, frowning. "No, it is not."

Tossing it to her, she grabbed it neatly out of the air and sat down to read.

The information on the life and times of the former Jedi Master, one Qui-Gon Jinn, was frustratingly brief. For the first few months, he had been tracked incessantly, every job, every conversation monitored; it wouldn't do for a Jedi, even one dismissed from the Temple, to behave inappropriately. Discarded, yes but not unnoticed, Qui-Gon had gone from menial job to slightly shady dealings back to menial job. Finally, he obtained a position with the Naboo security forces and was moving up the ranks when, as per Temple policy, the half-year investigation ceased and Qui-Gon Jinn dropped out of sight.

He showed up again eight years later, a successful businessman, residing in the hill country of Naboo. Going off-world several times a year for supposedly 'mercantile' dealings, there were instances of spikes and ebbs in his cash flow accounts, unexplained and undocumented. He gave heavily to something called the 'Bendu Philosophical Group', to the 'Abolishionist Union' and the 'Rescue Relief Fund' but also to many other charities, legitimate or otherwise. In addition, he had been called upon by several influential Outer Rim groups to negotiate disputes, not a bad thing in of itself, but hovering close to that of the Jedi's fiercely protected mandate.

More damning was the gathering of several force-sensitive individuals within his sphere of influence, potential problems if they decided to band together and challenge the Jedi Order's place within the Republic and the powerful Senate. The Council did not take kindly to any threat, however insignificant, and these small coincidences were enough to warrant an investigation.

Obi-Wan paced as his apprentice sat quietly and absorbed the information. He knew that there was not enough evidence on that datapad for outright condemnation of his former Master. Point of fact, there was little real proof of any misconduct. But the Order and his own conscience would demand that he investigate the allegations to the best of his ability and make some judgment as to whether to take Qui-Gon into custody. Misuse of the Force, especially for material gain or power, was a serious offense in the Republic. And the Council would be quick to mete out justice.

Worry about meeting his old Master, long-buried guilt at letting Qui-Gon down and the more recent anger at the Council for forcing him to this subterfuge, swirled about his head like some malevolent swarm of demoniac ghosts. _Cursed by Master Qui-Gon if I do and condemned by the Council if I don't. I hate this...I hate it._

Atel must have felt some of his anxiety because she glanced up, almost nervously, and watched his movements. He was pacing back and forth from wall to wall and back again. And he had to admit that he was muttering to himself as well while she read. He was disconcerted, anxious and she seemed to pick up on that.

"Master, something about this isn't right. Have you read all of this? Especially the recent Naboo history?"

"No, I skipped the history. What troubles you?"

"Whoever wrote this expects us to believe that...it's just so absurd. According to the reports, about nine years ago, Naboo was invaded by the Trade Federation. At the time, they had a fourteen year old girl as an elected queen." She rolled her eyes at that but got a stern look from him. She settled down and began again with some exasperation in her voice. "I know, Master, I know. I realize that other species develop early. The Tssek't are mature at three and dead at 20 and don't even get me started on the Neventhk. But we are talking humans, here, after all."

Another severe frown from him, she shrugged in defeat and continued, "Somehow, this young girl managed to fend off the Federation with a brilliant maneuver, capturing the Viceroy. But that's not the ludicrous part, although it does seem a bit farfetched. A nine-year old boy, piloting a Naboo starfighter, managed to blow up the droid control ship and save the day. Nine years old! That has got to be wrong. Maybe they meant a nineteen year old boy?"

"I've heard more unusual things in my life. Perhaps the Force was with the child?" He was unsure about the information, unable to dismiss the tale but not ready to believe it either.

Atel snorted at that, obviously dismissing the thought. "Surely a boy with that much Force potential would be at the Temple . Must have been dumb luck."

Obi-Wan softly replied. "There's no such thing as luck."

"So you always tell me." She sent a sly smile his way. "Well, then, perhaps, your old Master knows him."

"I wouldn't be in the least surprised. He was always picking up strays."

The Padawan just grunted again, and turned back to her reading. Obi-Wan looked at her fondly for a moment, realizing that all too soon she would be off on her own missions, a Knight of the Jedi Order. He remembered wanting that name, that position as a young boy, as if reaching for a dazzling star, his longing pulsing bright. Such happiness when Qui-Gon finally chose him, so much joy and intensity in the training and the missions.

His old Master had been a puzzle at first, stoic and inscrutable. But, once you got past his brusque exterior, his abiding affection and patient understanding ran parsecs deep. Obi-Wan had adored his Master, had hoped for a long and illustrious career with Qui-Gon there as mentor, father, friend. And yet it had all turned to ash.

He looked again at his apprentice. It was time to make amends, time to tell her about his Master, time to make her understand the truth of Qui-Gon Jinn.

"Atel, my Master's inexhaustible talent for acquiring strays was the stuff of legends. I remember one incident where..."

--------------------------------------------------------------

The Jinn residence was located quite close to Naboo's secondary spaceport, an easy landspeeder ride over gently dappled hills. As they approached, Obi-Wan Kenobi could not help but admire the serene loveliness of the place. Colored in rich honeyed tones, low and rambling, the stone house was wrapped in a blossom-covered porch, feathery trees kissing the gleaming slate roof. Several windows peeped through the green shrubbery, reflecting the blued, ice-capped mountains in the distance. Everywhere, the air was incredibly fresh and scented with flowers, delicious and relaxing. It made him envious for a moment but he hastily shook off the unnerving feeling.

As soon as the speeder powered down, he told his apprentice to scout out the area. He planned to meet with Master Qui-Gon alone, to gauge his reactions to this intrusive "visit". When he was more comfortable with the setup, he would contact her. Atel nodded and scampered away towards the larger outbuildings. Obi-Wan remained behind, patiently waiting for his former Master to appear, discovering for himself just what reception he could expect after all these years. He didn't have long to wait.

"Hello, Obi-Wan."

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, then pivoted slowly, the sound of that calm, beloved voice triggering a myriad of stunning memories, bright flashes of intense imagery cascading through his mind, Bandomeer, Telos, Qui-Gon laughing, screaming at him to get down as blaster bolts twanged past, gentle smiles, severe frowns, that last horrible day on Coruscant. It was too overwhelming, the emotions of a lost lifetime.

Obi-Wan knew he must regain control and so he brutally suppressed the thoughts with an almost audible snap. He swallowed hard, finished his turn and stood there in typical Jedi stance, lifting his troubled eyes to the man that had once meant everything to him. Qui-Gon Jinn, his former Master.

The years had been kind to Qui-Gon. Brown and silvered hair still cascaded down his broad shoulders and he remained bearded, but there was a lightness of being in his clear blue eyes, his body straight and tall. He was not dressed in Jedi robes now, but in a comfortable blue tunic and leggings, slightly stained from kneeling in the soil. Qui-Gon's hands were covered in dirt, a smudge on his cheek, but he seemed very content, at ease with the universe. Seeing Obi-Wan's face, he broke into a broad smile.

"It's so good to see you again." Jinn strode forward, impossibly fast, and Obi-Wan was abruptly enveloped in a ferocious hug. The moment seemed forever as Obi-Wan eagerly leaned into the embrace, remembering the warmth and spirit that was uniquely Qui-Gon. His breath hitched once as he blinked away sudden tears.

Finally, reluctantly, Qui-Gon stepped back a bit, his large hands still grasping the shoulders of his former apprentice. Grinning as he studied Obi-Wan, his intense gaze faltered slightly as Jinn looked more closely. Obi-Wan knew that he wore the stoic Jedi facade well but there was an unsettling shadow to his manner, his mouth tightly compressed, his blue eyes hooded. He could not hide the unhappiness buried deep inside, not from his old Master.

"Padawan, how I've missed you."

"Hello, Master Jinn."

"Obi-Wan, please. Not so formal. My name is Qui-Gon, in case you have forgotten." He teased, blue eyes twinkling. Stepping back, he wiped his large hands on his leggings and looked again at his former apprentice. Obi-Wan knew that Master Qui-Gon was remembering the last time he had seen him, ten long years before. Forced to leave the Temple, practically penniless, without friends or family, told to leave all behind, clothes, possessions, lightsaber, it had been a harrowing time. But the most damning thing of all was having to abandon his apprentice. The loss of that relationship had hurt both men deeply; they were still paying the price.

As Qui-Gon continued to scrutinize him, Obi-Wan realized that he could feel the questions rising in his Master's thoughts, questions about where he had been for the past ten years and why no contact. But Kenobi remained stonily silent and Qui-Gon, ever the diplomat, turned and gestured for him to follow.

"Come into the house. I need to get cleaned up and then we can talk." Looking around, Qui-Gon puzzled, "Where's your Padawan? You have one, don't you?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Oh, yes. She's around somewhere, probably looking at the plants in your garden. She'll be along soon enough."

Qui-Gon blinked, unasked questions flitting across his face and then he schooled his leonine features back into a broad smile. "Well, then. Come and meet the family."

"Family?!"

"Of course. I'm not a Jedi Knight any more. I'm a farmer with a wife and son." He grinned slyly, looking at Obi-Wan's startled face. "And a baby girl on the way."

Obi-Wan's mouth dropped open in surprise and Qui-Gon burst out laughing. "Come in."

Master Qui-Gon strode up the broad stone steps, and paused in the cool shade of the long porch. He glanced back at Obi-Wan and a warm smile lit his eyes, turning them a brilliant blue. "It's good to see you again, Obi-Wan." Nodding slightly, he turned and went into the house. His voice echoed through the open windows, "Le'orath, we have guests. Where are you, love?" And the sound of his footsteps faded into the far rooms.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes for a moment, the troubled frown deepening across his face. This was certainly not what he had expected. When assigned this mission, the Council had said that Qui-Gon Jinn was a successful businessman, not a farmer. _A farmer! And with a family. Blast!! I knew I should have said no. I just knew it_. He growled deep in his throat, furious with that Sith-begotten Council. It was too much, the pain of potential betrayal too great. He snarled again. _They did this for spite and now I'm trapped. How am I going to do this?_

Shifting into immovable stance, determined to control the careening emotions, he breathed deeply once, twice. _Do what you must, Kenobi. Duty first and always_.

Obi-Wan looked towards the inviting house for a long moment, then lifted his comlink and contacted his apprentice. "Atel, be mindful. Things are not as they seem."

"Yes, Master. I must agree. I'm almost at the barn now. And Master," hers was a half-whisper, "I think that there is a force-sensitive here. A very strong force-sensitive."

"Be careful, young one. And cautious. Remember, at the moment, we are here for a visit. Nothing more. I will let you know when I want you back." Obi-Wan clicked off and followed his former Master into the house.


	8. Chapter 5: Friends long gone  part 2

**Betrayal - Chapter 5 Old friends long gone**

Part 2

Atel looked disconcertedly at her comlink. Something was definitely up with Master Obi-Wan. She had never heard him more unsure.

She thought again about their argument about that rogue, Qui-Gon Jinn. Could all of her teachers have been so wrong? Could the histories be false? She knew that Master Obi-Wan would never consciously deceive her but he could be mistaken. Loyalty could beguile and twist perception into lies especially when his bonds with Master Jinn were so powerful. She would have to wait and see. She clenched her jaw, for just a second. _I will have to be strong if he cannot. I just hope it will not come to that_.

But she pushed it to the back of her mind. Duty first. Investigating the barn and the occupant were her main priorities at this moment. There would be time enough later for questions and answers.

Atel looked again at the large outbuilding. More than two stories high, it appeared to be made out of stone and wood with earth mounded up along both sides. She thought, irrelevantly, that winters here must be brutal for such a strong structure but shrugged and looked for a way in. The front portals were immense and appeared to be locked, but off to the side, a small human-sized door beckoned. The door gave way to a large interior structure, almost cathedral-like in its size and scope, the light streaming though the upper windows. On either side were tiers of droids and other mechanicals, obviously used for harvesting various types of crops. The center was wide and bare, but large enough for a gymnasium or salle. Large rings and bars hung from the distant roof; it was difficult to guess what their purposes could be, although at the Temple , they would have been used in training exercises.

Her eyes halted on a lone figure, sitting cross-legged on the floor at the center of the structure. Light pooled around him, seemed to set him pulsing with radiance, his bright blond hair shimmering. More importantly, he was ablaze in the Force. Here was the force-sensitive she had sensed, a most powerful one if she was any judge. He was turned away from her, tools scattered about him and his arms and back moved as if he were struggling with something in his hands. She knew that he was aware of her, his breathing had stopped for just a second and he had shifted slightly. But he said not a word, just kept working as she moved towards him.

Finally, not turning, he spoke quietly, "May I help you?" "I didn't mean to startle you. I was just exploring. I've never been on this type of estate before."

With that, putting down the droid in his hands, he rose gracefully to his feet and turned to face her. Dressed in blue tunic and leggings, he was about 20 years old, tall, slim and quite good-looking, his hair cropped short in a shaggy style reminiscent of a Padawan cut. A small blue jewel glittered in his right earlobe as the sunlight moved across his face.

"Estate? This is a ..." His blue eyes tightened suddenly, frowning, his whole body alert. "Jedi!" He scowled at her. "What in the blazes is a Jedi doing here?"

She stepped back, startled as he moved towards her, posture threatening. Atel shifted into ready stance of the first defense, her hands hovering, waiting for the attack. He started to mirror her move, then stopped, realizing what he was doing, and stood up straight, hands clenched.

"I repeat. What are you doing here?"

"We are visiting former Master Jinn. I believe he owns the place?" She tried to make it sound light but he would have none of it.

"Yes, he does. We...? Who are you?"

She straightened, then bowed slightly. "I am Atel Sl'etah, Padawan Learner to Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi. And you are...?"

He seemed distracted suddenly. "Anakin Skywalker. I'm apprenticed to Master Jinn. Kenobi, you say..."

She nodded. "Yes, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Do you know him?"

He looked at her again, growling, "Kenobi, Kenobi...yes, I've heard of him." He tried to push past her, rushing towards the side-door, but she stood firm. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"

He snorted. "Back to the house. To make sure that Master Jinn is all right. Protect him from your blasted Kenobi if I need to."

"What are you talking about? Master Obi-Wan wouldn't hurt him." She was clearly concerned at his attitude. _What could he have heard about Master Kenobi? Did he suspect that our mission is not just a visit but an investigation? That's not possible_.

He looked at her with contempt. "You high and mighty Jedi. You think that I am a fool? You toss people out of the Order like so much garbage and then they get killed. Well, you won't do that to Master Jinn. I'll see the whole damn Temple come crashing down around your ears first. I swear it." He abruptly sidestepped her, then disappeared through the door, the backswing hitting the jamb with a loud crack.

She just stood there stunned for an instant. _What in the blazes was that all about_? And then she moved hurriedly to catch up. She would protect her Master with her life, even against that brash idiot.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Obi-Wan pushed the front door open and entered a large common room, beautiful in its quiet elegancy. Two comfortable couches skimmed the far walls, a scattering of fabric covered chairs, a low table near the sofas - all denoted that this was the outward facade, the meeting place for guests and business clientele. Done in crèmes and beiges, there were also bright splashes of color here and there; the pillows strewn on the couches, artwork of people and places hung on the walls, a shawl cast over one chair. There were clusters of flowers everywhere, done in simple designs that spoke of wealth and style.

Beyond the far right doorway, a whoosh of running water and the soft undertones of voices beckoned him. But then the sounds turned strident and he paused, torn by the twin problems of letting Qui-Gon have the privacy he deserved and the mission-imperatives that Obi-Wan must follow. Duty won and he moved closer.

A feminine voice rang out, troubled and angry. "Kenobi's here!?" The sounds turned sarcastic. "Well, about damn time. Ten years of ignoring you and he just waltzes in here without a word."

"Le', please. Can't you just let it be, just for a little while? I've missed him. Now he's here. Let's at least pretend he's here to see me."

"So now it comes down to pretense. Qui love, he's hurt you every day. I could see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice. I won't let him hurt you again." The sound of water stopped. "All right, all right, for your sake, I'll be civil." Soft noises and a heavy sigh. "Why is he here anyway? A mission?"

"Not a visit, not after all this time. Look, I've left him out there. Go and be polite while I change... Polite, mind."

He heard another sarcastic, "Yes, oh wise Master."

The sound of footsteps coming his way galvanized Obi-Wan to step back into the center of the common room. The woman who entered was about forty years old, tall, with braided waist-length red hair and piercing green eyes, relatively thin, although her waistline had begun to thicken with pregnancy. Le'orath Jinn was not beautiful but striking in the classic sense, so much so that, after a moment's reflection, mere beauty would seem unimportant. She filled the space with her presence, her emerald eyes staring straight into the soul.

"Knight Kenobi, welcome to our home. Please sit down." Her voice was pleasant, seemingly congenial as she gestured to one of the far couches.

Obi-Wan bowed politely. "Thank you, Mistress Jinn." He sat quickly, his tattered brown robes pooling around him, and turned to his hostess. "You have a very lovely place here."

She settled next to him and, smiling, reached for his hand. Taking it in hers, she squeezed gently at first but with increasingly painful pressure. She leaned over, still smiling, her eyes stone cold, and spoke quietly, so that her voice would not carry.

"Listen to me, you miserable bastard. I don't know why you've come. I don't know why it took you ten years to get your worthless Jedi carcass here to visit him. And by the Gods, I certainly don't know why he still loves you like a son. But I swear to you, if you hurt him again, I don't care who you are - Jedi Knight, Republic representative, Supreme Chancellor, I don't care. I will hunt you down and destroy you. Do you understand me, Jedi?"

With that, she let his hand go and he shook it slightly to help circulation return. At first, her words had filled him with astonishment but the shame soon followed. _Coward... Kenobi, you should have tried harder_. It was clear that she loved Qui-Gon very much. To threaten a Jedi so was not to be taken lightly.

"I understand, Mistress Jinn. Perhaps more than you know."

He turned to say something else, maybe reassure her but at that moment, Qui-Gon returned. Dressed now in white shirt and dark-blue leggings, commanding and tall, he almost looked like a pirate or mercenary. Behind him stood a child about four years old, red haired and blue-eyed, peering out from behind large legs.

"Le'orath, I seemed to have misplaced my son. Has anyone seen him? Oh, dear, oh, dear. Guess I'll just have to go get another one..."

The child giggled and looked up at his father. "Here I am, Daddy."

Qui-Gon turned and caught up the little one in his arms, a soft growl escaping his lips. "What's this? Oh, here you are..." Hoisting the child over his shoulder, the boy giggling as he was held upside down, Qui-Gon walked over to Obi-Wan and tapped his son on the bottom. "This is my son, Ben. Usually, he is right side up but it appears that today is an upside-down day."

There were more muffled giggles, some wiggling and then the boy said, "Put me down, Daddy."

With that, Ben was lifted and set down next to Le'orath. Putting her arm around his shoulder, cuddling him close as if for protection, she glared straight at Obi-Wan. The child looked at his mother and then at the stranger in their midst.

He had some experience in the initiate's crèche; all the knights must spend time there now that most of the staff had been dismissed. Outwardly, the child seemed quite ordinary as far as children go. This one, however, was strong, very strong, in the Force, powerful enough to have been sent to the Temple three years ago. Why he was here and not on Coruscant spoke volumes. Indeed there was something amiss.

Obi-Wan bowed slightly to the boy. "Hello, young Ben. I am Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi. I am very pleased to meet you."

The child's eyes grew wide with recognition as he buried himself deeper into his mother's arms. His voice trembled with fear. "Daddy, it's the Knight, the Jedi. Just like in my dream...it's Obi-Wan. Did you know that? Is he going to take you away now?"

Obi-Wan was dumbfounded. "Why would you think that, child?"

Ben drove himself behind Le'orath as though trying to disappear. 'Mommy, make him go. Please. He's going to take Daddy away."


	9. Chapter 6: Connections and Part 1

**Chapter 6: Connections and separations**

Part 1

Qui-Gon knelt beside his son, rubbing his back, trying to allay his fears. "Ben, it's all right, it's all right. Obi-Wan is here to visit, nothing more." He shot a sharp questioning glance at Kenobi as though to ask if that were true, but Obi-Wan pointedly avoided the blue eyes.

Drawing back from his mother's embrace, Ben leapt into his father's arms, crying softly, hiccuping a bit and held on fast, his tiny fists grabbing the long graying hair. Qui-Gon made quiet comforting noises and stood up, still enfolding his son in his arms, gently rocking.

Obi-Wan was about to say something to ease the child's fears, now flowing palpably through the Force, when Atel's frenzied thoughts invaded his own. //_Be wary, Master. He's just ahead of me_.//

And a young man catapulted through the front door, took one look at Obi-Wan and moved to stand over him, posture clearly threatening. Atel was only a second behind him. She moved in, ready to defend her Master.

The youth glared at Obi-Wan for a moment and then turned to Qui-Gon. His concern was obvious. "Are you okay? Has he hurt you?" Frowning, he glanced at the clinging child. "Why is Ben crying?"

Throwing a quelling glance at the young man, Jinn's frown clearly indicated that his menacing attitude was inappropriate. "I'm fine. Ben had a little scare but he will be better soon...right Ben?"

The child nodded into his father's shoulder, his quiet sighs hitching as he began to calm.

The teen relaxed a fraction and moved to stand next to Qui-Gon. Looking like he was unsure of the situation, he settled into ready stance, continuing to scowl at Obi-Wan. His young face was a shifting map of troubling thoughts but Obi-Wan could read his emotions clearly: confusion about the sudden appearance of the Jedi, disdain for the apparent coincidence, distrust that Qui-Gon might well be in danger. His glare morphed into an entrenched frown, mouth set and grim. Hovering near his Master, the young man's entire posture was clearly to guard Qui-Gon Jinn at all costs, with his life if necessary.

Looking at both men standing over him and reading the teen's glowering presence as one of potential threat, Obi-Wan realized that he was somewhat trapped by the couch and low table before him. Smiling to relieve the tension, he nodded and stood up, moving discreetly to stand next to Atel.

Qui-Gon spoke first. "I believe that introductions are in order." Gesturing towards the Jedi, he nodded, "Anakin Skywalker, meet Obi-Wan Kenobi." Qui-Gon's eyes flicked from one to the other, a brief grin lighting his face. "He's my former Padawan, now a Jedi Knight, and by the looks of it, soon to be Master Kenobi."

Qui-Gon placed a large hand on Anakin's shoulder, squeezing slightly. The young man relaxed and sent him back a grateful smile. "Anakin is my apprentice."

"Apprentice?!" Obi-Wan was startled by that statement, eyes raking the two. This unexpected news was troubling.

Jinn frowned somewhat, then his face cleared as he looked again at Anakin. "Yes, he is learning the trade."

Standing quietly as the conversation flowed around her, still scowling at Anakin, Atel looked puzzled, almost as if something was bothering her about the situation or someone in the room. Then her face cleared and she stared at Anakin with astonishment, "You're Anakin Skywalker...the Hero of Naboo?" The young man nodded, flustered. "But that would mean that you were very young at the Battle of Theed."

He glowered at her, exasperated. "I was nine years old. What about it?"

She pressed on, turning toward him. "I read in the histories that you made the shot that brought down the Trade Federation vessel. Impressive shooting for someone so young or... was it luck? "

Skywalker took a step forward, space narrowing between them. "It's none of your damn business, Jedi." His eyes gleamed dislike as he stared at her. "Besides, there's no such thing as luck."

Obi-Wan loudly cleared his throat. "And this brash young woman is my Padawan, Atel Sl'etah." He shot her a quieting, not-now look. "Atel, I don't believe you have met Mistress Le'orath Jinn, Qui-Gon's wife and his son, Ben."

Atel was speechless, her brown eyes widening. //_Wife, Master!!! And a son. That was not in the briefing nor in the data they gave us_.//

Le'orath rose gracefully and bowed, a mere nod of the head. "Welcome to our home, Padawan." Turning to her husband and gathering Ben gently into her arms, she looked over the scene, "Qui-Gon, I need to begin the evening meal. I assume that your guests will be staying."

At her husband's assent, she turned to the young man. "Anakin, could you help me, please?"

Moving past the Jedi, Obi-Wan's words stopped her for a moment. "I thank you for your generous offer, my lady. We would be glad to accept your hospitality. Atel, please go with them and lend any assistance." The group disappeared into the far doorway, his Padawan trailing behind and sending Obi-Wan an annoyed glare before moving out of his line of sight.

When they were alone once more, Obi-Wan turned to his old mentor. "You have a fine family, Master."

Qui-Gon smiled at that. "Le'orath must like you. She hates to cook and for her to volunteer... well, I'm astonished."

"Your son, Ben, seems to be an exceptional boy, strong in the Force. How long has he been having these visions?"

Qui-Gon's smile vanished and a stoic, shuttered look came over his face. His voice, too, was neutral, with just a touch of frost. "Visions, I'm sure that you are mistaken." His eyes tightened for just a moment, then said with some bemusement and not a little irony. "Or have you come to take me away?"

Obi-Wan moved close to Qui-Gon and gently grasped his arm. "I have no intention of taking you anywhere, Master. But it's clear that your son has been touched by the Force. How long?"

Qui-Gon looked down and Obi-Wan followed his gaze. His fingers were resting on Qui-Gon's arm, comfortably, so like the long-ago before the despair of dismissals and money and endless missions. Memories ghosting of other times and it felt right that it should be that way again.

But it was not then; it was now and duty came first. He let his hand drop away. He only hoped that they both felt the loss.

Something of his misery must have bled through because Qui-Gon swallowed hard and answered, conceding the point. "He's been having waking dreams for about six months; some come true, some have yet to come to pass, some do not."

"Master, it is clear that he is very Force-sensitive. He needs to be trained in the ways of the Jedi. And he's not too old. I could take him back with me."

Qui-Gon jerked back. His eyes narrowed, and he stood there, tall, arms folded, immovable. His voice was glacier-cold. "No, I forbid it."

"But surely he would be better off at the Temple. We would train him properly."

The voice was colder still, space-cold, eternity-cold. "I said no."

Obi-Wan had heard that tone only once in his life and he had forgotten neither the reason nor the result. He knew that pressing the point would not sway Qui-Gon, and indeed might further antagonize him. But duty was duty. And he was sworn to find and bring back any children worthy of the Order should the parents agree.

"Master, please listen. We need your son, desperately." Qui-Gon stiffened at the words. "You don't know what is going on at the Temple. Parents are refusing to give their children to the Jedi. We are told that the Order is no longer trustworthy." Obi-Wan shook his head in disbelief. "The number of young ones coming into the crèche has dwindled to almost nothing. Only orphans or unwanted babies, no one else. In the last year, there have been only nine given to the Jedi, not even enough for a single Clan. The Council does not know what to do."

Obi-Wan grasped his Master's arm again, warmth and strength seeping through his hands, trying to break the frost, to persuade Qui-Gon to see the critical imperative of allowing his son to go to the Jedi. But the sharp icy stare forced him to let go, his hands falling to his side, hope leaching away. One final try as he said, "At this rate, the Jedi will be extinct within a generation. Your son would do much to alleviate this, especially coming from a family of one so sorely mistreated. He would be an example of the trust you have in the Jedi. An example that others might follow."

"Trust?! I will not send my son to be trained and then discarded as so much trash. No!"

Sighing heavily, Obi-Wan gentled his voice. "So be it. I had to try." He leaned in close, almost whispering, "A warning, then, from a former Padawan to his old, much-esteemed Master."

Startled, Qui-Gon bent down to catch the words.

"The Senate is making noises about collecting data on all Force-sensitive children. From the lowest to the highest ranks of society. For their own government records, they say, not just for the Jedi's use. It doesn't make sense really since we are the only ones that would use that information. But vicious rumors are flying that the Republic government may mandate that the children be taken without consent, made wards of the state and given over to the Order. I don't agree with this course - it would be disastrous for the Jedi and for the families as well. It may just be rumors. They may want the information for other reasons, but I thought you should know. Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan said softly, "guard your son well."


	10. Chapter 6: Connections and Part 2

**Betrayal - Chapter 6 - Connections and separations**

Part 2

As dinner began, conversation seemed awkward, full of strange silences. It was clear to Obi-Wan that his Master was still upset about his comments and yet he did not want to end this with bitterness. He had hoped for one night, pure, with fond remembrances and a Padawan's love for his Master. Just one night. Tomorrow would be soon enough for investigation and damned duty.

Conversation ebbed and flowed around the passing of food and the small talk of child and parent, host and guests. Le'orath was a better cook than Qui-Gon has intimated and the smells and tastes of the many dishes were wonderful. To the Jedi, used to simple cheap meals, it was almost a banquet.

But to one individual, it was not a banquet. Young Ben, now secure within the warmth of his family, and, above all, bored with the adult conversation, had begun to display a four-year old's exuberance and skill at deception. Staring at the sweets just beyond his reach, the child waggled his fingers ever so slightly, his blue eyes intense, a sly smile on his face. One small brightly-colored treat began a stealthy slow dance across the table towards the boy.

Spying the movement and amused at the thought, Obi-Wan lent his talent to the task and a second sweet trailed the first. When Ben looked around to see who was helping him, he looked surprised to see the strange Jedi Kenobi smiling. The boy was startled at first, but when Obi-Wan winked at him, a small grin lit his young face and he giggled.

His father, suddenly aware of the scene, said sharply, "Ben, no."

Eyes abruptly huge, the boy's smile disappeared and he bent his head, clearly unsure of what he had done wrong.

Softening his voice, Qui-Gon gestured towards a small pile of blocks and other toys in the far corner of the room. "Ben, it's all right but you must be bored with all this grown-up talk. Why don't you go enjoy your games?" The child nodded and moved away, looked at the adults for a moment and then settled down to play.

"I see that Ben has many talents." Obi-Wan's voice was tinged with amusement and his eyes were dancing.

Qui-Gon said coldly, "Yes, he has. I meant what I said, Obi-Wan. You will get nothing of his talents."

He nodded, unhappy that this simple act of play had caused a further rift in their relationship. "Be at ease, Master. I was merely helping Ben with his logistical problem."

With a sharp look, Qui-Gon returned to his meal and uneasy silence descended on the group.

The food lay leaden in Obi-Wan's gut, acid etching his troubled thoughts. _Damn, this may be your last chance, you blasted fool. Try and fix this, Kenobi, before it's too late._

He sent Jinn a tentative smile. "Master, I often thought of you, hoping that you were well and happy. It is obvious that you have come far. Home, family, a good life. I'm glad."

Qui-Gon must have recognized what Obi-Wan was trying to do, wishing to repair the damage of their bitter argument and he must have wanted to make amends as well. Qui-Gon returned the smile and nodded. "It was not an easy path. In fact, at first, it was very difficult. I did not want to impose on friends, afraid that some of the shame of dismissal would fall on them. I tried several occupations, none of which paid well and sometimes I was discharged without reason. Others would not hire me at all, obviously suspicious of a former Jedi. Who can really blame them? Such a Jedi must surely be rogue or tainted in some way."

"How could they think such a thing?"

Qui-Gon shrugged, "Dismissal from the Temple had always been for crimes or behavior unbecoming a Jedi, never for money reasons. They had no way of knowing."

His old master sighed slightly, "Finally, with my funds dwindling fast, I bowed to the inevitable and asked for help. Luckily, the entourage from Naboo needed someone familiar with Coruscant and security to run checks on locations and personnel at the capital. Captain Panaka was acquainted with my work and hired me. He did me a great service, Obi-Wan."

Smiling briefly, apparently warmed by the memories, Qui-Gon said, "They must have been pleased with my efforts because I was invited to join their security forces back on Naboo. I accepted with pleasure. Of course, no sooner had I arrived, then the Trade Federation invaded the planet. It was pretty rough for a while, but in my own small way, I was able to help the resistance and Queen Amidala. When the Queen escaped, I was among her guards. We had a few bumps on the road to Coruscant but finally made it all in one piece." He looked over at Anakin, grinning. "Along the twisted Force-driven path, I met with this young scamp. And together, we were able to help free Naboo."

"The Force was with you."

"It must have been. For my contribution, the Naboo people gifted me with some money. I was able to scrap together enough to buy this small farm."

"It's beautiful here. A fine place."

Qui-Gon smiled at that. "Not when I bought it. It was tumbling down, the field fallow, the equipment old and in disrepair. I had no idea what I was doing. How could I? Diplomacy and lightsaber duels do not help crops grow. I almost lost everything that first year. But then..." His hand closed over that of Le'orath, his eyes glowing with pride and affection. "I met this lovely woman. Le' is a landscape architect and an amazingly good one at that. She helped me with the rough spots. The next year, the profits were so great that I was able to finish the house and outbuildings. And then I asked her to marry me."

Le'orath smiled at that, squeezing his hand lightly. But her softness leached away as she looked across the table at Obi-Wan. "We were married at Midwinter Festival. I knew the moment I met Qui-Gon that I wanted to be with him always. How could I not? He was so gentle and yet there was a sorrow about him that I wanted to soothe. I didn't know then that the Jedi had tossed him aside."

She glanced at Atel and then back at Obi-Wan, her eyes frosty, lighting to summer warmth when she looked again at Qui-Gon. "We have built a good life here, Knight Kenobi. One, I hope, that will last a long time."

"That is my hope as well, my lady."

Atel spoke up, probing for information. "You have accomplished quite a bit in such a short time, Master Jinn. Are crops all you raise?"

Anakin glared at her but said nothing. Qui-Gon glanced first at his apprentice, then at Atel, a sharp measuring look. His voice was neutral. "Actually, no. Here, I raise exotic biologicals; they have quite a high return on the money invested. But I have interests in several companies as well. It is best to diversify in this time of unrest. I have learned to adapt to the changing economic climate and now am part owner in mining, medical supplies, biotechnology, and transportation consortiums. A Jedi does not have to think about where their next meal is coming from but I do."

"You'd be surprised at what a Jedi has to think about these days, Master." Obi-Wan's sardonic irony was not lost on his Padawan. She suppressed a brief snort.

Qui-Gon nodded slowly, a sad smile on his leonine face. "I often think about the Temple and our time together, Obi-Wan. It was exhausting but very worthwhile, helping to maintain peace and justice in the Republic. But since I left, rumors have grown that all is not well within the Order. Some pretty alarming tales have reached even the wilds of Naboo."

Obi-Wan's apprentice stared at him, resolute. //_Don't tell him anything, Master. Please don't_.// But he ignored her warnings. He wanted, he needed to make this connection.

"Things have not been as they should. After you left, most of the Council were dismissed: Master Windu, Master Gallia and several others. When Master Yoda returned from his mission the following week, the Senate evoked some obscure statute and forced him to retire."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "The first wave of dismissals was disheartening to more than just those immediately affected, of course. Trust had been broken and the despair of it seemed to permeate the very air of the Temple for several months. But as the shock of such a move faded, life seemed to return to normal."

"And then?" Qui-Gon gently probed.

"The Senate tightened their grip again. Citing increased pressure to curb costs and disappointment in the resistant attitude of the Jedi to the Republic's wishes, there was a second round of dismissals and then a third. It seemed to almost spiral out of control. The few protestations from some of the Order's friends were silenced. The Jedi became entirely dependent on the good graces of the Senate. And they were not in the mood to be gracious."

Obi-Wan pressed his hand against his eyes for a moment and then looked into the sad face of his old Master. "The competition for goods and services within the Order became fierce. Cooperation is a fine thing when there is plenty, but as the stranglehold tightened, everyone began to look for ways to strengthen their own positions. And still Jedi were turned out of the Temple. Fault-finding, hoarding, rigidity of thought were encouraged by such actions. The halls are monitored, behavior codified and more dismissals are coming." Obi-Wan gave an unhappy cough. "Now, it is difficult to even replace a cloak."

Anakin glanced at Qui-Gon and nodded. "Oh, so that is why you were wearing such shabby clothes. I thought you just didn't have time to change before coming here."

Obi-Wan shot him a measuring look. "Quite correct, Anakin. Shabby is an apt description."

"And now?" asked Qui-Gon, softly, prompting.

"Now they have turned most of the mediation chambers and gymnasiums into food production. There have been eight... no, nine waves of terminations and still there are rumors of more to come. Yet we are expected to have successful missions with no complaints or errors. Too much to do and not nearly enough Jedi or resources to cope."

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan."

He just shrugged again. "Qui-Gon, thank you. I know. But I am a Jedi and must do my duty. I can do no less."

Skywalker studied him, frowning dismissively. "So, that's it then. You're just going to keep coming back for more, even though they treat you like dirt."

"I will do what I must, Anakin."

The young man looked at Obi-Wan with bewilderment. "Can't you fight them? Turn things around?"

"How? The Senate has control of the money and the Jedi are sworn to uphold the laws and government of the Republic."

"Walk away from it, then."

"I cannot do that. I would be forsworn."

Anakin snorted at that. "Duty to a group that discards its own like week-old trash? You are a fool."

Qui-Gon's reply was brief and to the point. "Anakin, this is not the way you treat guests."

"No, Master" Anakin muttered, a fleeting glimpse of shame crossing his face.

"Obi-Wan, this is sad news indeed but not unexpected. We may be far from Coruscant but news of the Jedi travels fast, even in hyperspace." Jinn sighed and laid his hand on Obi-Wan's arm. "You are always welcome here."

Le'orath moved slightly, as though to protest, but said nothing. She looked at Anakin and shrugged, "Knight Kenobi, you spoke of dismissals. You must have lost a number of friends over the years. Have you kept in touch with any of them?"

That question brought a sharp, embarrassed look from Qui-Gon. "Le', you promised not to do this."

"I promised not to ask Kenobi about why he hasn't bothered to contact you in the last ten years. I'm merely inquiring about his friends."

Jinn moved to speak sharply to his wife but Obi-Wan gestured for attention. "Mistress Jinn is quite correct to ask. Master, you deserve an answer."

Atel shot him a disbelieving look //_Master, Listen to me, please. Don't tell him anything. He is under investigation. Don't..._// But again he ignored her warning.

"We are forbidden from contacting anyone dismissed from the Order, for whatever reason. Ignoring that directive entails...various types of punishment, depending on the level of defiance."

Le'orath did not back down. Pressing the point, she said tartly, "And you were afraid of a little punishment, a slap on the wrist, is that it, Kenobi? Couldn't break the rules even for Qui-Gon's sake, right?"

Qui-Gon radiated fury. "How could you?" But his question was met with a brief shrug from his wife. It was clear that Le'orath wanted answers; she seemed willing to cut past all the careful questions and get to the root of it. Perhaps she thought that Qui-Gon needed to know the answers. Perhaps she knew that he wouldn't ask and so she did the asking for him.

It was said that a wound must be cut and cleaned before it could heal. This wound had festered in Obi-Wan for years. Knowing Qui-Gon, it was probably the same.

But it still hurt, abominably so. He sat there, quiet, still, unable to move or think for a moment. Avoiding Qui-Gon's gaze, he looked at Le'orath and murmured, "Excuse me."

Then, abruptly, unable to stay in that place for one more second, he stood and strode out the door. Atel was hard on his heels.

She found him there. He was standing on the porch, gazing out at the moon rising over the mountains, his hands busy shredding a white trumpet flower. He said nothing for a time, trying to find his center, hoping to calm his raging guilt.

Finally, he told Atel to bring the landspeeder around to the front. They would be leaving momentarily. When she scampered down the steps and around the corner of the house, the sounds of the night began to fill the silent spaces.

The scraping of a boot heel, the slight whine of the front door opening and the glow of a Force signature alerted him to another presence. Qui-Gon moved quietly to stand next to his former apprentice.

"Obi-Wan, I must apologize for Le'orath's remarks. She had no right to..." Jinn was quickly interrupted.

"No, Master, she was correct. You deserve to know the truth. It's just...hard to explain." Obi-Wan shrugged and seemed to shrink into himself, chilled by the memories. His hand opened and a shredded flower floated down, stained white and black as it moved from light to shadow to light again. Without thinking, he reached for another and began to slowly pull it apart.

"I'm sorry, Master. I'm a coward...such a coward." Obi-Wan's whispers were almost imperceptible but sharp with pain. "I tried, truly I did. Pulled every string I could to find out where you were. With no success. Then I got caught. Defied them as only you could, Master." An anguished grimace flitted over his face and then he looked down, unable to bear Qui-Gon's questions. "Defied them at first and then I got sneaky. But it didn't matter. They found out anyway and each time it happened, the...punishments got worse." He stopped to breathe, gasping for air as though some great weight was pressing down, down on him. He closed his eyes and tried to center, before the memories crowded out what he needed to say.

"Finally, I couldn't...couldn't face it again. I stopped looking. I'm sorry." He closed his eyes for a moment, grimacing with remembered anguish. The blossom in his hand, torn to unrecognizable pulp, floated down, light and dark, to join the others. He started to reach for the trumpet flower near his face when Qui-Gon grabbed Obi-Wan's shoulders with his own large hands and shook him gently.

"Obi-Wan, you were never a coward. Never." Jinn's voice was warm with certainty.

He just shook his head, refusing to meet his Master's eyes. "I should have been stronger but I couldn't fight the fear in that damnable cell any more."

"What cell?" Qui-Gon stepped back, hands dropping away. The wintry tone in his voice was cold, sharp, almost angry. Obi-Wan flinched at the sound.

"The cells at the Temple's base." He was confused; surely his former Master knew about them.

"Yes, there are force-suppressed cells there for criminals, to inhibit escape. The worst that they face is loss of any connection with the Force - it is painful at first, but the strong-willed eventually get used to it. And you are very strong-willed." Qui-Gon probed insistently. "Was there a particular cell that they put you in?"

Obi-Wan shuddered. "It was always cell AA23."

Qui-Gon's retort was quick and expressive. "Those damnable, bloody bastards. They promised me they would dismantle it. They promised."

"Master, you know of it?"

Jinn looked down at the mound of crushed blossoms. "I helped to test it. Obi-Wan, I'm so sorry."

He jerked his eyes up to meet Qui-Gon's own, anger growing out of the guilt and confusion. "Tested it? Helped them? How could you agree to such a thing? It's an obscenity, a twisted misuse of the Force. How could you?"

"I had no idea that they were using it in such a way. Obi-Wan, the Jedi did not invent it." Jinn's voice was gentle but Obi-Wan just shook his head. "Listen, please. One of the Knights in the Outer Rim stumbled across it in an investigation. As far as we know, there is only one, although it appeared that more were to be manufactured. They were going to use it as a weapon against the Jedi since it only works with force-sensitives.'' Qui-Gon moved closer. "The device is able to probe deep into the psyche to find the one thing the victim most fears and multiplies it. It is extremely effective."

"I know that," Obi-Wan growled.

"I agreed to help with the testing to see if there was any defense against it. At the time, the Jedi Council was afraid that more would be coming on the market and we needed to counteract its effects. I was put in the cell for up to two hours at a time, hoping that I could find a way to get around the device. They said my tendency towards stubbornness should serve me well." Qui-Gon gave a slight shiver. "It did not. We were never able to find a way around it. When the testing ended, I was promised, most solemnly, that the device would be destroyed. It seems that they lied."

"So it seems." Obi-Wan rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, pain beginning to flash behind the temples. He needed time to reflect on this, time to come to some understanding and deal with the lingering guilt and anger.

"Obi-Wan, come back in. Perhaps, we can start again. I've missed you very much, my old Padawan." Qui-Gon gripped his shoulder again, squeezing slightly. "I know that my family and I haven't made you very welcome but I want another chance."

But he shook his head and Qui-Gon stepped back, unsure of how to proceed. "I need to meditate on this, Master. And my mission begins tomorrow. I will be quite busy for some time." Qui-Gon looked at him, solemn and unhappy but nodded, accepting the Jedi's decision. "I promise that I will see you, at least once, before I leave and we can talk further. Perhaps, the Force has brought us together again for a reason, one that is not apparent in the moment. We will have to see."

The whine of the landspeeder brought them to silence as Atel drove up. She got out and stood, patiently waiting by the porch steps.

"Please make my apologies to your wife and Ben. Anakin as well. I'm sorry, Master."

Qui-Gon nodded and suddenly moved to give Obi-Wan an enveloping hug, whispering. "Never forget that you are the son of my heart, Obi-Wan. Always." He released him and stood back. "May the Force be with you."

Obi-Wan blinked back sudden tears. "And you are my much-loved Master. I will not forget." Turning to go, he replied, "And may the Force be with you."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Qui-Gon Jinn watched as the speeder roared away and then the night settled into a peaceful calm, the lacywings humming quietly among the blossoms. The young shadow, waiting patiently by his side, moved closer. "Did he tell you about his mission?"

"Anakin, Jedi do not discuss missions with just anyone. It is unwise to do so and against the regulations as well. And no, he did not tell me."

"Do you think he is investigating the disappearance of all those dismissed Jedi? Does he know who killed them? Or is he the killer?"

Qui-Gon smiled briefly but the warmth did not reach his eyes. "So many questions, my young apprentice. No, contrary to your feelings about him, he is not the one killing the ex-Jedi. He could not, not my old Padawan. And he is not investigating the losses either or else he would have asked me about them. No, he's likely here to check up on me and our operations here."

"Master, are you sure?" Qui-Gon gave a swift, unhappy nod.

"What now?"

"Anakin, it will take him a while to settle into his lodgings and then he will begin inquiries tonight. We have about an hour. Let's make the most of it. Go into town and alert our friends that a potential enemy is among us."

"Is he our enemy?" The voice was taut with some darker emotion, jealousy perhaps or an eagerness to begin the chase.

"Damn, I hope not." Qui-Gon closed his eyes for a moment, frowning, pain scrawling across his face. He shook himself free of it and turned toward his apprentice. "Have everyone treat him with the respect due a Jedi but tell him nothing."

"And if he finds out what is going on?"

The tall man shrugged helplessly. "It will be as the Force wills."

"Master, I'm sorry... about everything. It must be hard to see him again, like this." The young one stood with head bowed, penitent.

"Yes, it is. He is the son of my heart…" Qui-Gon put his arm around Anakin's shoulders for a swift, sharp hug and then let him go, "As are you, young one. We are wasting time. Get going, now."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

"Is he gone?" Mace Windu asked quietly from the shadowed corner.

"Yes, he's gone for now. And before you ask, yes, I think he does suspect that there is something more going on here than growing crops." Qui-Gon frowned darkly, his voice low, almost angry. "They deliberately chose him. To torment me or to punish him. Maybe both." Staring out into the night, he admitted, "It hurt to see him and not tell him the truth. I...I've missed him."

"I'm sorry, my friend." Mace put his hand on Qui-Gon's shoulder for a second, squeezing lightly, wordless comfort in the light of the struggles to come, and stepped back.

He shrugged, resigned. "No matter. I will deal with it as I must. Now, to business. I had hoped for more time to strengthen our position before discovery. Better start moving the equipment and personnel out. But not too much. He's not stupid, quite the reverse. We will have to hide what we can, obscure the training centers if possible. He knows of mine. Let's make sure he doesn't find any others."

"And, if he does?" The murmur of disquiet wafted through the cool night air.

"They are looking for a scapegoat. If necessary, they will have one."

"And you're it..."

"Mace, we knew this was a possibility when we started. Yes, he may not know it yet but he's come for me." Qui-Gon turned and placed a hand on Windu's arm, holding him still for a moment, his voice thready with concern. "Promise that you will look after my family. And Anakin. He's very headstrong and may protest this course."

"I will. But aren't you forgetting that the future is always in motion?"

Jinn snorted at that. "I forget nothing." He turned and looked back to where the speeder had disappeared. "Damn that Council for bringing him into this. They are playing us for fools again, Mace, but I am no longer a fool."


	11. Chapter 7: Stumbling in the dark part 1

Chapter 7: **Stumbling in the dark**

Part 1

The silence in the landspeeder was absolute. The uneasy quiet between Master and apprentice had grown as their vehicle arrowed toward the soft haze of the distant spaceport. It deepened even as the night's second moon rose over the dappled hills and painted the far, jagged-toothed mountains in a silver light. The breathtaking scene, a doubled-vision of black and white, did not relieve the tense stillness within.

Atel's face was its own landscape, sketched in lines of moonsglow and black and green, the instrument panel's reflected light patterning across her brow. Eyes hooded, mouth hard, her stress-cramped hands were stark with ivory outrage as she drove towards the port. Battling his own turmoil behind duracrete shields, Obi-Wan didn't really see her there. Instead, he stared down at his own hands, the fingers outlined in chalk and charcoal, and then away, gazing into the vastness of space.

Finally, he moved to ease his cramped shoulders. Glancing at his silent apprentice, what he saw there worried him. Obi-Wan had needed this time for reflection, to try and unknot the twisted threads of conversation and nuance, to determine what had happened and what must happen next. He had thought that Atel was merely respecting his wish for quiet but it was now apparent that more was going on. Her unease pulsed through the Force.

He leaned forward, touching her arm, acknowledging that he was ready to listen to her concerns but she sharply shrugged him off.

"Padawan?" Her piercing glance warned him to tread very lightly. He was weary from the constant barrage of guilt and turmoil that had blackened his day so far but he knew this was important to her. "What is wrong?"

"I need to meditate first, Master, before I can speak clearly on this issue." Her tone was flat, almost angry.

"On what issue? If this pertains to the mission, I need to know before we reach the port."

She growled, "Permission to speak frankly, Master?"

He realized that this was serious. "Yes, Atel, say what you must."

She pulled sharply on the speeder stick. The stuttering white-noise of the repulsor fields indicated that they were no longer on the road and safely out of the way of passing vehicles. As she powered down the speeder, the engine's whine was replaced by the rustling of leaves and echo of night creatures in the nearby wood.

For a moment, the stillness remained and then his Padawan exploded with outrage. "What were you thinking back there endangering the mission like that?"

"What?" Taken aback, his voice rose in bewilderment.

"Telling Jinn about the Temple. It's a clear violation of the Standards for Jedi Behavior."

"That's Master Jinn to you."

"No. Not Master Jinn." She looked at him, hard frown deepening, voice steely and quick. "No, not to me and definitely not to you. Master Jinn was ten years ago. This man is Jinn who is under investigation, Jinn who is a potential enemy, Jinn who may be a rogue."

"Atel, enough."

"No, Master, it's not enough." Her voice hardened further. "What is going on? I've never seen you like this. You have never gone against the rules of the Temple while on a mission before. Ever. Even when you thought that they were wrong, you have always obeyed the Council and the Code. Why now? What makes this mission so different that you would throw away everything for that man?"

"I haven't thrown away anything."

Atel looked at him as if she were unable to understand why her Master did not comprehend the potential for disaster. "Master Obi-Wan, please listen to me. The Standards are very clear, uncompromisingly clear on what can and cannot be said outside the Temple. You told Jinn about the Jedi's relationship with the Senate, about the codified behavior, about the monitoring, all things that are not his concern. And he is under investigation. The Council might think that you are consorting with the suspect, an accessory. You should not have told him anything."

She shook her head and then stared at him, directly, pointedly. "Master, you have put me in a very difficult position."

"Why do you say that?"

"The Standards state that a Jedi, be they Master, Knight or Padawan, must inform the Council as soon as they are aware that a violation has taken place. If I don't report you and they find out, I could be punished or dismissed, depending on the level of offense. With or without your consent. If I do report you, you will be dismissed or worse." She shook her head sharply, voice catching as she said, "What am I going to do?"

"Padawan, calm yourself. I know that I may have overstepped the letter of the Standards, but potential threat or not, Qui-Gon deserved to know what was and is happening at the Temple. It is my responsibility and mine alone. I will make sure that all my actions will be included in the mission report."

Her brown eyes flashed green in the reflected light as she blinked back tears. "But, Master, is that enough? The rules demand that the offense is to be reported immediately."

"Are you sure? I don't recall anything about that in the Standards. I read them very carefully when they were issued at the beginning of the year."

"Yes, I am sure. They revised the rules just as we returned from Septemus Five. The mandated class was held..." Her breath drew in sharply. "While you were in the Healer's wing."

"Padawan, it was my error, not yours. Ill or not, I should have made sure that I was current with any change in Temple directives." Obi-Wan sighed heavily and rubbed his hand over his eyes, trying to ease the headache just beginning to build there. "Atel, I am not sorry that I told Master Qui-Gon what I did and I would not have changed anything had I known about the revisions. I am sorry that you are caught in the middle. It was certainly not my intention." He sighed again. "I've been less than mindful lately. The missions have been exhausting. Still, it is no excuse."

Atel repeated, "What am I going to do?"

"Before any decision, you must calm your mind, Padawan. Worry, fear and doubt will only cloud your thoughts and lead you astray."

"Yes, Master."

"Much as I might wish to, I cannot dictate your course in this matter. You must do what you feel is right." He shrugged dejectedly and turned his face towards the spaceport. "We are almost there. When we reach our lodgings, I want you to go to the room and meditate on this. You will need some time alone to deal with the issues at hand. I will scout out the area. When I will return, we will discuss this further." Clearly unhappy, she nodded and turned away, unable to meet his eyes.

"Atel, it will be all right. I trust your judgment." He squeezed her shoulder slightly, hoping to soothe her troubled mind. "You might do me a favor and see if you can pull out the revised Standards on your datapad. I will need to review them tonight so that there will be no further problems." His voice softened, "Padawan, it will be all right. You'll see."

"Yes, Master."

"Good. Now, let's get going."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The spaceport was a small town, a village really. There was one road straight through the center with a series of side streets leading off towards the outlying farms. There was little traffic around the port; in the high season of summer, it would be bustling but now the harvests were in and the pleasure-seekers of Naboo's mountain and lake districts had gone home.

The hostelry was cheap and cramped, a small place tilting precariously towards the street. It was too near the spaceport for quiet and the walls were paper-thin. But it was clean and friendly to the Jedi, an increasingly important point, and Obi-Wan had no complaints.

He dropped Atel off at the front entrance, parked the speeder and then set off on foot towards the sound of nightly amusements. He knew that tomorrow he would visit the officials of the community, but tonight cantinas were his goal. Rumors, stories and hostility towards Qui-Gon Jinn might just show up in those seedy establishments. Resentment towards a successful farmer, even one as generous as his former Master, could lead to valuable information gleaned nowhere else.

He picked a likely place, the _Screaming Mynock_. It was hard to tell at night, even with the twinned light of the Naboo moons peering over his shoulder, but the tavern did seem a bit rundown - perfect for his first foray.

The noise assaulted his senses as soon as he entered the place. For a moment, he seemed frozen in the light at the entrance, an obvious ploy to blind newcomers to the darkened space while letting the denizens within look them over. He moved down the steps towards the bar counter. The place quieted a bit and more than one being glanced in his direction. As he sat down, snatches of conversation could be heard.

"Who's that? ... dressed like a beggar ... a Jedi here? ... why ... do the Bendu know he's ... two-to-one odds on him ... Windu won't like ... I'm leaving now ... what's a Jedi Knight doing ... training centers ... does Jinn ... Jedi ... death ... wearing a lightsaber ... Jedi ...watch ... mind tricks ... say nothing."

The bartender, an overweight, rather grubby human of some stature, growled at him, "What's your pleasure, Jedi?" He then began to chuckle as if making a very obvious crude joke.

Obi-Wan looked at him and said distinctly, "Blue Corellian and information."

The man sniffed at this. "Sure you can handle it? Corellian ale packs a mean wallop." At Obi-Wan's continued stare, he just shrugged, poured glowing blue liquid into a semi-cleaned glass and shoved it in the Jedi's direction.

"Two credits for the drink. Information may be free or cost a great deal, depending."

"I'm looking for someone. Been at the port a long time?" He placed the credits down on the counter and began to sip his ale, all the while glancing around the room. The crowd of humans and aliens seemed to quiet slightly while trying to avoid the Jedi's attention. It fooled no one.

"Yeah, so what?"

"Notice anyone lately who has had a very good run of luck? Maybe too good. Someone who may have become rich a little too quickly?"

Glancing towards the rear of the cantina where noises of sabaac play indicated that gambling might just be taking place, the man shrugged. "Sometimes, people get lucky. 'Course, then they take one extra spin of the randomizer and lose everything. Gambling is a matter of luck and a bit of skill. What's it to you, Jedi or is wagering illegal in the Republic these days?"

"Not as far as I know. No, I'm more interested in someone who may have moved here over the past ten years or so and gotten lucky with business ventures. Picking just the right time to buy or sell and making a huge profit. That type of luck."

"Can you be more specific? That describes a lot of someones." The human rubbed his neck as though thinking, surreptitiously nodding to a tall figure lurking in the shadows near the rear entrance, just out of Obi-Wan's line of sight.

"Some beings are pretty adept at making deals, using their skills as negotiators to get others to agree to things that they might not ordinarily do. Or have great timing to take advantage of situations that come up quickly. Maybe even using mind tricks or wizardry to get their way. Anyone complained about that recently? "

"No, Jedi. Why don't you stop dancing around and get to the point? I have other customers."

"That farmer towards the west of town, Qui-Gon Jinn, seems to have made quite a name for himself. Owns a number of businesses and yet he started with nothing. He's quite lucky."

The man abruptly frowned, eyes narrowing, and leaned forward, staring at Obi-Wan. The tavern quieted suddenly. "Look, Jedi snoop. Here's a bit of free information. Leave Jinn and his friends alone."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. He's done more for this town and this world than any dozen Jedi conjurers. Was there during the Blockade, been helping out ever since. Didn't see any of your kind helping us out. Then or now. You Jedi were too busy fetching and carrying for the rich and famous to pay any attention to a poor world in trouble. So leave him alone. Leave them alone and go bother someone else."

The bartender straightened up and glared at Obi-Wan. "I'm sure there's a war somewhere that you can go play in. So go play... elsewhere." With that, he turned his back on the Jedi and walked away.

The whispers and glances told Obi-Wan that he would get no help here. He noted, too, that the tall shadow was gone, probably to spread word that a Jedi was investigating Jinn. Shrugging, he left his drink at the counter and strode out of the cantina.

Still, the information had been more helpful than the barkeeper had intended. It confirmed the datapad information; Master Jinn had help, allies. The man had lumped them together, indicating that either there were more than a couple of force-sensitives in the area or that his friends were willing to help Qui-Gon deal with any Jedi investigation.

But more importantly, Obi-Wan realized that, if he had to take his Master back to Coruscant, it might be quite difficult to do so, more so than from the expected resistance of a single Jedi.

That uncomfortable and unwelcome thought stayed with him as he began to hunt for the next likely spot to ask questions.


	12. Chapter 7: Stumbling in the dark part 2

Chapter 7: **Stumbling in the dark**

Part 2

Over the next few hours, Obi-Wan had widened his search to five additional taverns ranging in status from elegant to downright dangerous, three restaurants and a couple of clubs. In each, he had been treated politely but firmly.

Told in no uncertain terms to leave Jinn alone by all and sundry, Kenobi was growing oddly indignant by absurdity of it all. It was just so blasted ironic because he _did_ want to leave Jinn alone. But he couldn't, not yet.

He had gleaned quite a bit of information. It was definite that there were other force-sensitives in the area, more than just at the Jinn residence; certain whispers and veiled threats confirmed his earlier suspicions. It was clear that Qui-Gon was quite generous with his time, his abilities and his money in aiding the less fortunate. That came as no surprise; Obi-Wan had always known his Master to help when he could - when the Jedi had been allowed to help.

It also appeared that the rumors of the investigation had run like wildfire through the community. By the time he had entered the last establishment, he didn't even have to say anything. The owner had gone to him immediately and began berating him before telling him to get out.

Still, he was satisfied with the evening's work. Rumors could be very helpful. They would alert the more shady beings that Obi-Wan was here gathering information; some of those individuals might want to meet in less conspicuous surroundings. Kenobi would likely be approached fairly soon, probably tomorrow or the day after.

And now by the _Screaming Mynock_, he waited for his tall shadow to appear. It didn't take long.

"Hello, Anakin."

The young man bowed his head slightly, a frown settling on his troubled face. Voice clipped and anxious, he acknowledged that the chase was over. "Kenobi. Been waiting long?"

"No. Well, have you alerted the whole town or should I let you get a little further ahead?" Obi-Wan let a wry smile loose for just a moment before the stoic Jedi visage returned.

Anakin seemed to tire of the game. "Why are you asking questions about Master Qui-Gon? I thought you were his friend."

"I am. Believe me, Anakin, I am."

"But you are asking about his powers, about his money and how he got it. It sounds more like he is being accused of crimes against the Republic, or maybe against the Jedi and their little kingdom. Is that what a friend does?"

"I am a Jedi, required by the Council to investigate certain allegations..."

Skywalker interrupted him, his voice fierce and low, "Trumped up charges. Your blasted Council cannot control him so they are going to shut him up." He moved forward, growling. "You're going to take him back with you, aren't you? Imprison him because he is no longer one of yours."

"I hope not."

Sadness, regret seeped into those three words and Obi-Wan was suddenly very tired. He had meant to keep Anakin talking for duty's sake but now he just wanted to get away. He desperately needed to meditate, to see his way clear of this dilemma.

"Then don't. Please, just leave him alone. Please." The young man sounded urgent, almost pleading.

"I wish I could." Obi-Wan's regret grew deeper. He sighed and moved close to the young apprentice, murmuring quietly, rapidly, "But maybe, if you could help me, Anakin. Help me to prove that he is innocent, that he had done nothing wrong. I would soon be on my way and Qui-Gon could be left in peace. It's what we both want, for Qui-Gon to be happy and well. Help me make that a reality."

Anakin instantly drew back from him, his eyes wide,staring at Obi-Wan as if he were a ravening nexu or venomous adder. Mouth grimacing, he hissed back. "Stay away from me, Jedi. You are unbelievable." His voice rose in fury. "You expect me to betray my Master!! You obscene fraud." He looked as if he was going to throttle the Jedi, then he abruptly turned and stalked away, muttering.

"No, Anakin, that's not what I..." Obi-Wan called after him, sorrow thickening his throat, "meant."

He slumped back against the wall, shaking his head, muttering. "Kenobi, you are an idiot. A muck-brained inept idiot." Pulling himself up and slowly walking back towards his meager lodgings, he thought again of this last conversation.

He had been a negotiator and Republic representative for ten years now, more if the Padawan experiences were tallied in. When, in the last few minutes, had he completely lost all sense of reason, of tact?

He was a complete fool. Even when people were trying to blast him out of existence, he had kept a clear head, could parley his way out of war and disputes of all kinds - except this. This one had him stumped. Now, Anakin wrongly thought that betrayal was his goal and he would certainly tell Qui-Gon.

Damn. His old Master would think... damn.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a very weary Obi-Wan who made his way back to their rooms. He hesitated outside his door, realizing that there was still the matter of Atel's dilemma to be handled. Sighing, he closed his eyes briefly, centering himself and made his way in. His Padawan was not waiting for him inside. Looking to see if she was still meditating in the adjoining room, he peered around the corner.

Atel was quietly snoring, sprawled as always across her bed. As much as he should have awakened her and cleared the air, he could not. He had had enough emotional entanglement in the last few hours to last him a lifetime.

He closed the door quietly. Tossing his cloak onto the single chair, he made his way back to his bed. Moving to pull his boots off, he stopped a moment, hunching down, the heels of his hands pressing into his eyes, trying to wipe away the roiling emotions that had stained his day in darkness. They kept clouding his thoughts, buzzing like quarrel gnats, distracting him. Meditation called him, beckoned him to find his calm center but he had one more task to do before he could relax into that quiet.

As promised, Atel had left her datapad on his pillow. After changing for bed, Obi-Wan leaned back and began to read. The revisions in the Standards in Jedi Behavior were extensive; some items were merely wording changes with subtle distinctions but others had been totally obliterated, remolded to mean something entirely different.

By the time he had scrolled to the section on mission directives and perused the files, he was fuming and indignant.

His Padawan had been quite correct. She was expected to divulge his error to the Council or their staff, as soon as he had made it. But it was more than that. The Standards had changed to such an extent that any slight error in judgment, deliberate or accidentally, was met with harsh discipline, punishment far more severe than the error would merit.

Obi-Wan leaned his head against the thin wall, frowning. When had the Order become so twisted? Compassion and justice were the pillars on which the Jedi Order was founded. Now it seemed that the members of the Temple were compelled to turn on their fellow Jedi at the first sign of trouble.

No, it was more than that. It was treachery that was expected, pure and simple. The Council wanted to foster a system where betrayal of trust was anticipated, condoned and for what? Expediency? Control? He wasn't sure but he didn't like it, not at all.

The door creaked opened and a very sleepy Atel peered into the tiny room. "Master, is there something wrong? I felt that you were upset."

"It's been a trying day. I'm in sore need of meditation and I need to think about a few things first. I'm sorry that I woke you." He gestured for her to sit but instead she walked over and knelt before him.

"That's all right." She bowed her head, looking away shyly. "I waited as long as I could."

"Padawan, it is late and I understand the need for sleep." He tried to make his voice light, to give her space to say what she must. "Have you decided what to do?"

"Yes, Master. I have." Atel hesitated, head bent. "I am still upset about your decisions regarding Master Jinn. However, I cannot destroy your life over this. It doesn't feel right."

She looked up, unsure, but then she seemed to gather courage and said steadfastly, "But I must warn you, Master Obi-Wan. I cannot continue to ignore any further infractions. I must obey the Code and the Standards. I'm sorry." Her eyes pleaded for understanding.

"Atel, you must do what you think is right. I must do that as well. Let's hope that the two rights are on the same path next time." She nodded, unhappy but obviously reconciled to her decision.

He glanced at her, kneeling so small and forlorn on the floor. He knew that it hurt her to ignore the rules but she had a kind heart. Someday soon, she would make a great Knight. Filled with a sudden sadness for his lonely future without her, he reached down and pulled her up to sit next to him. He looked for a moment at her disheveled appearance, then began to grin.

She leaned away, disconcerted. "What?"

"You need a haircut, Padawan. It's getting a bit...well, messy. And it's sticking straight up in the back."

She just glared at him and said slowly, distinctly, "I was asleep." She tried to push her hair into order but failed miserably. "Besides, you don't look so good yourself. You need to rest, my Master."

"Yes, I do." He nodded. "You know that, although we may not always agree, I will miss you very much when you become a knight, Atel."

"That's a long time from now, Master."

"Not so long. Some knights are nearly your age. Before you know it, you will be off on your own missions."

She just rolled her eyes at him, then snorted. "Okay, when you start getting this maudlin, I know it's time for you to sleep. We'll talk tomorrow." Shaking her head, she strode to the door, stepped into her room and, closing her door, said, "Good night".

Obi-Wan just stared after her, muttering. "I already miss the gangling knobby-kneed girl." Shrugging, he moved into the classic meditation position and began to search for calm in this cauldron of emotion. It was a very long time in coming.


	13. Chapter 8: Cowled in Deepest Black

**Chapter 8: Cowled in Deepest Black**

The pulsating light from the Coruscanti night oozed through the window, spilling across the carpeted floor in pools of blood-red and ebony. By the glass, a lone, cowled figure, his face hidden behind black cloth and deceit, paused for a moment to contemplate the coming fate of his enemies.

The detested Jedi, now cowering in the halls of their impoverished and crumbling Temple and the simpering Loyalists, so sanctimonious in their futile pleas for calm and compromise were on the edge of destruction. Soon, very soon, the fate of the Republic would rest in his hands.

Such exquisite power would be his alone.

Then the fools would be no more. He could almost taste the hot copper-tang of their spurting blood, smell the ozone of lightsabers tearing through their broken bodies, hear their hoarse cries of delicious agony.

He savored the images for just a moment and then turned to business.

Around him, the darkness shivered with the touch of his Force-fouled apprentice. As Maul crept towards Darth Sidious, he seemed to hesitate there. It was not wise to interrupt the Sith Lord at his pleasures, contemplating the total obliteration of their despised enemies. Darth Maul knew this.

Shrouded in black, he knelt before his Master and bowed his head, penitent, awaiting instruction.

"Maul, report."

"My Master, Kamino output is on schedule. The first 200,000 units are ready and awaiting your orders. A million more are on the way."

"Excellent." Sidious stared down at the cowering figure. "And how fares the Geonosis project?"

"As planned, Count Dooku has stirred the pot into a boiling frenzy. Several groups, including the Trade Federation, the Corporate Alliance and the Banking Clan, have all thrown in their support of a separatist movement and are eager to begin battle. You have but to wave your hand and it shall be done."

"Good, good. A few more days perhaps and then... my apprentice, you have done well." His voice was husky with satisfaction and yet the apprentice continued to kneel before him. "Is there something else you wish to tell me?"

"Yes, my Master." Wordlessly, he reached into the fastness of his cloak, and offered a blue lekku, streaked with dried blood and offal, the skin shredded. Maul laid the putrid flesh at his Master's feet.

"A fine gift, Lord Maul. Did this one give you much trouble?"

"No, my Master."

"And yet... you remain bowed before me. Should I ask the reason or should I pull it from your torn body as you lay screaming in pain? Do not try my patience too far."

Maul lowered his eyes, and grimacing, nodded. "My Lord, I have destroyed three additional Jedi, a Master and two Knights, with one blow. There was not enough flesh remaining to add to your large collection. For this, I am truly sorry."

"And why is that a problem? As long as the Jedi fools are dead, what does a bit of meat matter?"

"The manner of their death disturbs me, my Lord. I had arranged for the passenger ship, _Dawn_ _Star_, to be boarded by pirates. The Black Sun criminals are looking to enhance their flesh trade in the area and two hundred or so new slaves would have sweetened our approach for an alliance with them. Temporary alliance, of course."

"Of course."

"I had disabled all of the lifepods, trapping the passengers, crew and Jedi aboard. But the pirate scum were too hasty, and unhappily the ship blew up prematurely. There were no survivors, Master."

"That is a tragedy." A hint of derisive laughter played in Sidious's voice and a smile tugged his face for a moment. "No matter. Slaves can be such a bother. And it may have been a boon with the Abolitionist Union increasingly active in the Outer Rim Territories. If I didn't know any better, I would think that Jinn's pitiful little band was plotting a slave revolt in the near future. Too bad, he won't be around to help complete the task."

"My Lord?"

"Jinn will soon be destroyed." His voice was full of grim amusement. "No, I want the attention of the Republic well away from Geonosis for the moment. A slave uprising on Tatooine or Ryloth or any of the nearby systems at this time would muddy the waters and possibly highlight our activities in the area. The Black Sun brigands will have to get their own slaves, flounder a bit more on their own. I don't need them quite yet, perhaps later."

"Yes, my Master."

"Now, rise my apprentice. Time for a little sport."

Darth Sidious moved towards the hologram generator, gesturing Lord Maul into a black-hued corner, hidden from view but not out of earshot. The dark Master pressed a button and a deformed, flickering figure appeared above the desk.

"My Lord, greetings. How may I serve you?" The voice was as distorted as the figure, giving no clue as to the identity of the being.

"Is this connection secure?" Sidious demanded in stern tones. Any detection at this critical juncture would be disastrous to his plans.

The voice was tenuous and cringing. "Of... of course, my Lord."

"Good. I would not wish to find that you have been neglectful." His threat was real, razor-sharp, but then his tone softened into apparent rapport. "My friend, it is good to hear from you once more. How goes our little venture with Kenobi? I assume that he has arrested Jinn and they are on their way back to Coruscant."

The response reflected quivering fear and astonishment, obviously terrified that the news would not be well received. "I...my... my Lord, Kenobi has only just arrived. He has not had time to investigate the charges as yet. I hope that, in a few days, he will return with Jinn."

"The Jedi Council is shockingly slow and pathetic in understanding how to control their people. Kenobi should have been ordered to arrest Jinn immediately upon arrival. Surely you could have arranged that?" His contempt was absolute.

"The Council was rather resistant, my Lord. They insist that the law must be obeyed as well as the Code. But it will be done. Kenobi will arrest Jinn and bring him back to Coruscant."

"Would you bet your life on it?" His voice echoed husky in the air, his meaning threateningly clear.

"Of...of course, my Lord. Jinn has been quite active in things he should not, things that can be quickly uncovered. But to make sure he is apprehended, I planted undeniable evidence of Force misuse where Kenobi is sure to find it. It is hidden deep; we would not want him to locate it too quickly and be suspicious of an easy gift." The voice sounded sharp with apprehension. "Kenobi will be drawn into the trap quite easily. He will have no choice but to bring back his former Master under arrest."

"What then? Will your simpering Jedi Council treat him with reverence or will he get what he deserves... a painful and slow death?"

The figure cringed. The being must have known that the dark Master would not like the answer. "Death, my Lord? They will not kill him. Imprisonment, exile to a penal planet, yes but death..."

Sidious cut through the tirade. Low, but perfectly clear, he growled, "I want Jinn dead. He has been a vibroblade in my side for far too long. If the Council will not kill him, then you must."

The wavering shape cowered, denying the command.

Sidious said, "You are mine, you little fool. I have given you wealth, power and slaves. Now do as I say or else you will… regret it." The figure bowed once, nodding reluctantly. "Kill him fast or kill him slow. Make it look like suicide or murder - I do not care. Just kill him when he returns to Coruscant."

"Yes, my Lord. I will send you word of his death when it is done. Have you any other instructions?"

He smiled with satisfaction. "No, my friend. You have done much for me. Once Jinn is dead, you will get everything you deserve and more. Greatness, power and glory will be yours."

"Thank you, my Lord. I look forward to it."

And as the figure bowed again, Sidious smiled politely and waved his hand at the controls. The image thinned into blue haze and then nothingness.

"As do I," he said softly.

He stood up, motioning his apprentice to his side, and moved to the window. Looking out toward the Jedi Temple, that despised bastion of peace and justice and utter folly, he rubbed his hands together and thought about the insect that had challenged him just now.

That quivering coward had attempted to thwart his plans, had dared to contemplate following other pathways. Foolish mortal. He would have to keep a careful eye on that one. He wouldn't want his plans to go awry just because some idiot had not done their part. And when it was done, when everything was his and he had the galaxy under his grip, then it would be time for rewards… and punishments.

"Reward, indeed." He let out an amused chuckle as he thought of the excruciating torments his gullible agent would experience once the fool's use was over. "Oh yes, you will be rewarded."

Sidious glanced at his apprentice. Maul was smirking, satisfaction gleaming in his yellow eyes; apparently, even he understood how things really worked.

Fear, torture, death, destruction – these were the keys to ultimate power. And the Sith would use them all to get what they wanted.

"Lord Maul, return to Geonosis and assist Dooku in his campaign. Make sure that he does not stray from our agenda. I would not want this to fall apart when we are so close." Maul bent his head in acknowledgement.

"In a few days, I have an additional assignment for you. A vacation, if you will, for all of your efforts. Jinn's demise will be tragic, of course, but the deaths of his wife and son will be more so. If the child had been older, we could have sent him on to the slavers, but as it is... no matter. Play with them if you wish but I want the complete destruction of his lands and family when you are done. Let those fools learn why attachments should remain forbidden."

Snake-bright, Sidious smiled at such folly. "Love and compassion. What simpletons they are.

The only true emotion is hate - seething, boiling hate. Dark, rich, intoxicating. The Jedi think that it is the Force, but Maul, you and I know the truth. It is hate that binds the galaxy together."

* * *

_As the transmission faded and the energy of communication devices turned into static, as Dark Lords thought about hate and terror and ultimate power, unbeknownst to the Sith and their Jedi agent, from deep in the bowels of the vast city-planet, an automatic recording device clicked off._

_Scrambled, triple-encrypted, deliberately transmitted using false markers and intricate coding, the link between one being and another over the empty kilometers is always fleeting. But with enough determination, even the most obscure of secret transmissions could be intercepted, sliced and decoded._

_The will to survive can overcome many obstacles - even intricate traps set by a Sith Lord. _


	14. Chapter 9: Drowning in lies part 1

Chapter 9:**Drowning in Lies**

Part 1

Naboo's third moon was just setting over the sunlit, jagged-toothed mountains when the Jedi arrived at the Lake District Administration Office. A brief distance from the spaceport, the regal, imposing structure stood back from the main street, gardens and fountains filling the front lawn with winding pathways and intimate green corners inviting all to enjoy its tranquil beauty.

Obi-Wan and Atel had decided to walk, the exercise a form of active meditation. A relief after the cramped rooms at the hostelry and even smaller cabins in their ship, they enjoyed the spaciousness of the wide roads and visions of carved stone buildings covered in lush greenery. It was a lovely morning, clear and cool with the sweet scent of flowers drifting through the air.

After yesterday's emotional struggles, the peace was almost palpable.

It was easy enough to find the Governor's office. A polite acknowledgement at the front desk, directions up a broad flight of marble stairs past statues and paintings, and a quick right turn brought the Jedi to an ornately-crafted door with its golden script announcing that they had reached their goal. A secretary met them at the entry, ushering them in. Scattered around the large office in small knots of activity, the other staff and interns briefly glanced at the Jedi and then abruptly turned away, pretending to work. After a few moments, Obi-Wan and his apprentice were quietly shown into the inner sanctum. As the heavy doors closed behind them, the hum of anxious whispers rose and was cut off.

Obi-Wan looked about the elegant room. As with all Naboo architecture, there were tall, wide windows framing the mountains, intricate designs adorning the walls of inlaid wood and stone, and comfortable, beautifully carved chairs. From behind his vast marble desk, the genial, somewhat rotund administrator smiled slightly and rose to greet his guests.

"Master Jedi, it is an honor to greet the Republic's representatives. I am Tov Antilles, Governor of the Lake District."

"Thank you, your Excellency. I am Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi and this is my Padawan, Atel Sl'etah." The two Jedi bowed, and when Antilles motioned them forward, they sat, facing him.

Opening his hands wide, the Governor looked at the Jedi curiously. "How may I be of service?"

Obi-Wan paused and then said, "Governor, I am here to investigate certain allegations with regards to one of your constituents." The man nodded slowly. "Sir, do you know a Qui-Gon Jinn?"

Antilles's smile disappeared abruptly, a small frown materializing on the now-strained face. The voice, too, was lower, chilled. "So the rumors are true. You are here to arrest Qui-Gon."

"No, sir, not to arrest Master Jinn. We are merely making inquiries about his endeavors." Obi-Wan shifted in his chair, uneasy. "So you do know him."

"Yes, yes, of course. We are old friends."

"Then you are aware that he is a former Jedi, a Master in the ways of the Force..."

The Governor nodded slowly, frown deepening.

"It has come to the attention of the Jedi Council and the Republic Senate that former Master Jinn has become extraordinarily wealthy in a very short period of time." As Obi-Wan spoke, the administrator's eyes narrowed, frosted. "It is possible that he is just very lucky and perceptive. However, we need to make sure that he hasn't misused his powers. As I'm sure you know, the use of the Force for material gain is a serious offense."

Incensed, the Governor held up his hand, interrupting him. "Stop right now! Jedi Kenobi, I will hear no more of this. Qui-Gon Jinn is a deeply honorable individual, generous to a fault...sometimes overly generous. I've known Qui-Gon a long time, nine years, ever since he married my cousin, Le'orath. He would never do such a thing and these accusations are ridiculous." His voice tightened with disgust. "I will have you know that he is one of the heroes of the Battle of Naboo, fighting for our planet while you Senate mercenaries were off having tea. I cannot believe that the Republic has nothing better to do than harass upstanding men of Qui-Gon's character."

Obi-Wan started to speak but was thwarted again as Antilles spat out. "Enough! I will cooperate with Republic officials, of course. It is my duty to do so but I will not help you."

"Then you do not believe he has used the Force?" Obi-Wan asked, trying to ferret out more information.

"Not to gain wealth or power, no." Antilles was confident in his statement.

Obi-Wan tried to press the point. "Then he has used the Force for other purposes. Can you tell me what they were?"

"Is use of his powers illegal?"

"Not per se...," Obi-Wan hesitated and was quickly interrupted again.

"I will say nothing more, then. I will tell my staff to cooperate as is my duty. Do you have any other questions?" The man was upset, indignant, folding his arms tightly, his demeanor an impenetrable barrier.

Obi-Wan sighed. It was clear he would get no further information from Tov Antilles. He kept his tone neutral and correct, trying to avoid any reason for the Governor to complain to the Jedi Council about his actions or his methods.

"Your Excellency, we will need to complete our investigation. We must have access to governmental accounts, spaceport files, donation listings, tax records..."

The Governor stood up and gave him an icy glare. "I will see that they are available to you. And now, I have another appointment. Please see my attaché... about your needs. Good day."

The Jedi both stood up and bowed. Apparently, the interview was over.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

It could not be said that the Jedi were thrown out of the Administration Office but it was a near thing. The attaché was of even less help than the Governor and it was with much grumbling and delaying tactics that the codes for access to the requested records were finally available. When questioned about the governmental dataports, the man just sniffed, told Obi-Wan with a growl that the public facilities were across the street, and left.

Atel seemed faintly amused by the whole incident. "I guess we are not welcome here, Master."

"We should be grateful." Obi-Wan said, "At least they are not shooting at us."

"Not yet." Her answer was tart but said with a sly sideways glance. It brought a huff of approval from Obi-Wan.

The dataport office was crowded. It took some time but, at last, they were able to get a tiny room with dual access. Pulling out her own small datapad, Atel perused the information supplied to them by the Jedi Council. As remembered, it was sketchy at best.

Obi-Wan shook his head, sighing. "The data from the Council is almost useless. Atel, I want you to download Qui-Gon's tax records with the access codes we were given. We need to know about his income sources and the businesses in which he is a partner or has had an active part, the charities as well. I will look through the spaceport records and get some idea of his movements over the past nine years."

"Why charities, Master? That can't be important to our investigation, surely."

"Why not? Unscrupulous individuals often conceal their true intentions by inventing charitable organizations and then using them to hide their activities. No one will question the movement of goods or money for altruistic purposes. Since you insist that Jinn is a rogue, I thought it wise to cover all possibilities."

With a quick nod, his apprentice turned back toward her 'port.

Little was said for some time. While Atel sat hunched and unblinking over her own research, Obi-Wan frowned fiercely at the information he had gleaned. Qui-Gon's movements were tracked quite easily. He had gone to a number of locations: Coruscant, Sullust, Bandomeer, Kuat Shipyards, among others, apparently for business dealings. When checked against records of his transactions, everything appeared to be perfectly legal and above board. However, he also traveled to Tatooine and Ryloth several times in the last four years, no reason given, and was often accompanied by Skywalker or Mace Windu.

Obi-Wan started at that and scowled, deep in thought. _Mace Windu? That's odd… he's here and with Qui-Gon. I can understand Anakin. He's Qui-Gon's apprentice and should go with him, but Master Windu. What is going on?_

Turning back to the records, he looked more closely, noting the dates and specific locations. They seemed to travel first to Mos Espa, then further afield to other locations across Tatooine. Obi-Wan had never been to that desert planet, but over the years, he had heard wild tales of its depravities and illegal activities - drugs, slavery, murder, a veritable hive of scum and villainy. He couldn't help wondering just what Qui-Gon was doing there.

As for Ryloth, Obi-Wan had been sent on a mission with his Master some years ago to that strange, twilight world and knew just what places were safe for travelers and which were not. In all cases, Jinn had gone to the more dangerous locales, perfect for nefarious doings, perfect for…. _Stop it Kenobi. It's just not possible. Qui-Gon would not be dealing with criminals. Maybe he's helping those pathetic lifeforms I was always ranting about. Maybe..._

"Master?" Atel was looking at him, frowning confusion. "Master, are you all right?" He glanced at her and nodded, slowly. "You had the strangest look on your face."

"I'm fine. How far have you gotten with the task at hand?"

"My initial analysis is complete. I've downloaded the list of businesses that Jinn has acquired as well as dates they changed hands, former owners, business partners and any public information on how they were obtained. They look to be entirely legal at this point. Do you want me to dig further?"

"Yes, please do. Any criminal activity would be buried deep. Did you get the list of charities?"

"Yes, Master. Several of the organizations were already in place before former Master Jinn moved here. They have benefited from his generosity but have not gone beyond their initial mandates. There were only two that I thought would be of interest. The Abolitionist Union had been in existence for some time but has expanded quite a bit since Jinn started donating time and money. The Bendu Philosophical Group was founded by Jinn along with several other beings."

"Their names?"

"Mace Windu, Adi Gallia, Garen Muln and Siri Tachi were the most prominent names. Do you recognize them?"

Obi-Wan was stunned. "What!"

He looked at Atel with astonishment, unable to speak for a moment. She was equally bewildered and uncertain when he said, "They were all Jedi, dismissed from the Order over the last ten years. Windu and Gallia were on the Council and Garen is or was one of my best friends before he disappeared. I mentioned him to you back at the Temple."

"That Garen?"

"Yes, that Garen. I've known him since we were both in the crèche. And I went on several missions with Siri when I was a Padawan." He frowned at this new development. "Atel, I will deal with the charities. If there are more former Jedi in this Bendu group, I may recognize the names."

His Padawan agreed. "Master, our initial information did indicate that there were ex-Jedi on Naboo."

"True, but it also implied that there were only two or three at most. I'll need to look at the list but I have a feeling that it is more than just a few."

"And if there are...?"

"I don't know. We'll just have to see."

With that, Atel peered into Obi-Wan's troubled eyes for a moment, and then turned, shrugging. It was apparent that she'd only scratched the surface.

It was Obi-Wan's problem now.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The directory of active members of the Bendu Philosophical Group was extensive. Hundreds of names appeared on the public roster. Obi-Wan easily recognized more than fifty of the former Jedi, some of whom had been discharged almost ten years ago during the first great wave of dismissals. He was happy that all of these individuals had finally found a home; he knew the great price they paid for their unwarranted expulsions. But he was concerned that these Force users, these Bendu, might just be unhappy enough and powerful enough to challenge the might and will of the Jedi Order.

He needed more information. From memory, he could name approximately one hundred of those dismissed: close friends, teachers, and partners from missions long past. He knew that there had been far more Jedi that he had not known or seen only in passing on the discharge rosters. But memory was not enough. He only hoped that the Council would give him the data needed and not see this as another example of incompetence.

"Padawan…." Atel looked up from the 'port screen, blinking, grimacing as she straightened up. A quick frown on her face told of pain from cramped muscles and bad posture. "Sorry to interrupt you but I will be contacting the Temple to get a list of Jedi no longer with the Order. It was not included in our mission briefing and I find I have need of it. Do you require any information on Master Jinn that I might not be able to supply?"

"Yes, Master. Descriptions of his missions and contacts would be very useful."

Obi-wan chuckled. "That could take some time." But he nodded, grinning, when she sent him a wounded look. "Very well, Padawan. Stand by while I try to get through."

The datacenter had a holographic communications array, available for a minimal fee. Gritting his teeth, knowing that he would be reprimanded for unauthorized use of funds but unable to think of another way to get the needed information, he called the Temple.

It took some time, going through the many layers of bureaucracy. Each lackey had to hear the reasons for his communication, loudly berate him for wasting their time and then with much feigned exasperation, send him up to the next level where it all began again. At last, just when Obi-Wan was about to give up, he was able to reach Trest Sle'fey, head of the Jedi Missions Committee, and ultimately responsible for mission information and briefings before the Council.

"Kenobi, what are you doing contacting me at this time of night?" The Bothan was not pleased, white fur whirling in annoyance.

"Forgive me, Master Sle'fey, but I find that I need additional data in my investigation of Master Qui-Gon Jinn."

"Kenobi, you should know better than come to me with such petty problems. See my assistant."

As the Bothan began to wave his paw towards cutting the connection, Obi-Wan lurched forward, gesturing him to stop. "Please, Master, your assistant sent me to you. I need information that is confidential in nature and she seemed to think that only you could authorize it."

Sle'fey stopped, a brief flash of immense power and satisfaction lurking in the smoky hidden depths of his eyes, before he stepped back. "Well, what is it?"

"Master, I need a copy of former Master Jinn's mission reports as well as his contacts."

Sle'fey laughed at that, a barking yip of real amusement. "Do you know how long that will take? He was a Jedi operative for a very long time and went on countless missions. Really, Kenobi, you ask too much."

Obi-Wan tried to sound contrite, hoping to ease the Councilor's clear disdain. "I realize that, Master Sle'fey, but we need it in order to further investigate his business dealings."

The Bothan's voice was rising again, beady eyes glittering with indignation. "Are you saying that the mission briefing that I sent you...that I personally oversaw...was inadequate?"

"No, Master, not at all. We feel that additional information would expedite the inquiry."

Sle'fey was amused now. "Anything else while you're asking for all of Coruscant?"

"Yes, Master, I need a list of Jedi who have been dismissed over the last ten years."

Astonishment was clear in the narrowing of the Bothan's eyes and the movement of claws. "You can't be serious. Whatever for?"

"The Bendu organization, to which Qui-Gon Jinn belongs, seems to have quite an extensive Jedi presence, more than was indicated earlier. I wish to make sure that the names on the membership list are indeed former Jedi."

"Well, that's quite a request. Do you want the entire list or only the ones still living?"

Atel stood quietly by Obi-Wan's side but her thoughts were emphatic. //_All of them, Master_.//

"A complete list might be best, Master Sle'fey"

Closing his eyes for a moment, the Councilor appeared to be deep in thought. Finally, he looked at the two Jedi standing there, lifted his paws in a gesture of indignant surrender and sighed. "Very well, then. I will be downloading this information to you momentarily. Keep in mind that the dismissal records are incomplete. The last six months have not been updated yet. The mission descriptions will take a while. Expect them within 12 hours."

He paused and looked directly at Kenobi, frowning sternly, fierce eyes narrowed. "Remember that this is all completely confidential. Need to know only. I do not want any of this information to find its way into unscrupulous hands or bandied about the Temple. Not even a rumor, Kenobi or the punishment will be severe. Do I make myself extremely clear?" When Obi-Wan nodded warily, he continued, "Is there anything else?"

"Yes, Master, quite clear and no, Master, there is nothing else. You have been very helpful. I thank you." With that, the Bothan gave a final sniff and the transmission ended.

He turned to his apprentice, curious. "Well, that was interesting. Atel, why did you insist on all of the records?"

"Master, it was something Anakin said to me in the barn. It was very odd and I hadn't mentioned it to you since the implication was absurd." She paused and Obi-Wan gestured for her to continue. "He was quite angry when I first told him who you were. He insisted that you were there to kill Jinn."

"What!" Obi-Wan was indignant at such an accusation but Atel was not finished.

"He said something about tossing people out of the Order like so much garbage and then they get killed. It didn't make much sense at the time, I thought he was addled or a fool, but when Master Sle'fey asked you that, it sounded important."

"One more mystery to solve. Thank you, Atel. I'm sure that Anakin was just upset but I'll look into it while I'm going through the records. It shouldn't take much time. How many dead could there be, after all? A dozen, maybe two. It's not as if there was some malevolent force going around killing former Jedi. The thought is ludicrous."


	15. Chapter 9: Drowning in lies part 2

Chapter 9: **Drowning in Lies**

Part 2

True to his word, the Jedi Councilor sent the requested listing of former Jedi within minutes of the petition. Since it would be hours before the mission summaries were received, Atel had gone back to the intense and tangled investigation of business transactions.

It was easy enough to have the dataport computer compare the listing of former Jedi with the Bendu followers. The current membership, at least what was known of that obscure sect, included over 2500 adult sentients. Obi-Wan assumed that most of the Bendu were non-Force users, individuals sympathetic to their credo of compassion, service and justice to all. It seemed to be a high and noble cause, worthy of the followers of Light.

It was also suspiciously similar to the ways of the founding Jedi Order, begun in the mists of a time so long ago that it was almost myth. Then the Jedi were dedicated to helping those less fortunate, regardless of wealth or station. Now their duty to the Republic Senate superseded everything.

Obi-Wan sighed. _Compassion, justice and service to any who ask...it has not been like that for a very long time and the Order is unlikely to change. Not enough resources and certainly not acceptable in the eyes of the Council or the Senate_. He saddened at the thought.

With a soft ping, the computer announced that the analysis was complete. Obi-Wan began to roam through the gargantuan list, recognizing name after name among the Bendu Philosophical Group. Finally, in frustration, he looked at the numbers; almost 1600 former Jedi were now Bendu.

That was astounding, well above what Obi-Wan had expected. It was also thoroughly disconcerting. With so many ex-Jedi, a new Temple would be easy to establish. Some of the Jedi holdings outside Coruscant, in the days before all this began, had had far less. A rogue group of this size, no matter what they called it, would still be a potential threat to the Order. The Council would have to be informed when he returned home.

Obi-Wan frowned and looked again at the listing, troubled. He knew that the first great wave of dismissals had included a large number of Jedi with many Masters and older Knights but there never had been any conclusive count. Each additional cluster of terminations was quietly done. There were no announcements and certainly no information of who or how many were thrown out of the Order. Only rumor informed the curious that dismissals had even taken place.

Obi-Wan dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to ignore an inevitable conclusion. It was unsettling, and more than that, daunting.

If there were such a large contingent of Bendu Jedi here on Naboo, it would mean that the Order would have had to expel thousands. Surely, that must be wrong.

Shaking his head, Obi-Wan returned to the original listing, pages long, of Jedi who had been discharged over the years. When he tallied the final result, he was stunned. Over five thousand had been thrown out of the Temple in the past ten years, five thousand from a group that was never high in numbers.

_This is unbelievable. More than half of the Jedi are gone from the Order. Half!!_ He shook his head, trying to make some sense of it. _How could I have missed it? How could the Council? Surely they must know..._

His eyes widened, throat tightening in contempt. _The Council did know, had to know. How could they not? And yet they have done nothing to stem the problem, nothing...only tried to cover it up. No wonder Sle'fey didn't want to release the information. He had insisted on confidentiality and threatened punishment if any whiff of this got out. How very convenient._

Obi-Wan must have made some small noise of despair. His worried apprentice looked up, a question in her brown eyes but he wasn't willing to discuss this just yet. He needed to think long and hard about what he must do before talking it over with his young and often rule-bound Padawan. He merely shook his head and bend down towards his work.

He wondered, thinking, _What else have they hidden? What else...is Anakin right? How many dead are there?_

Turning back to the dataport computer, he had the listing sorted again. After a few seconds, the gruesome results were in.

The number of dead was more than 1250, a staggering amount.

Obi-Wan was numb. This was not possible.

Jedi, even former Jedi, should have been able to deal with accidents, even attempted murder but this...it was not...possible. Only other Force-users or overpowering numbers could execute such a foul tragedy. And not a rumor, not a word of this had graced the halls of the Temple.

He was angry then, furious at the Council and at his own inept behavior.

_Surely, someone must know of this abomination. Surely, the Council must know..._ He made another quiet grunt, sorrow buried deep in his chest. _Of course they knew. Sle'fey himself asked if he wanted all the data or just those still living. And yet they did nothing..._

The enormity of it was overwhelming. Unthinking, he began to go through the lists, hoping that his friends and colleagues were not among the dead, the murdered ones. And yet it was inevitable.

First he found gentle Pasht, a teacher who was strong in the Force and even stronger in compassion. A crèchemate, Briathia, a fighter and able with the blade, was gone. Another teacher, Dresshe, one of the best philosophy debaters at the Temple had become one with the Force. A Master, Offeet'tha, a fierce diplomat with whom Obi-Wan had shared adventures and missions, would never fight again.

And then he stopped. There, captured on the harsh screen in razored shades of darkness and white ice, was the name of Bant - gentle, compassionate, wonderful Bant, his best friend, whose courage and understanding kept him going after the Melida/Daan madness, the one to whom he could always turn before she was inevitably thrown out of the Temple. She was dead, two years now, and he hadn't even known. He never had the chance to say goodbye and now it was too late.

For a few moments, he felt nothing, too dazed to think.

Then suddenly, his chest hurt as the harsh notes of anguish boiled upward, tearing at his throat, the moans of twinned guilt and remorse coursing through his body. He began to curl inward, wrapping his arms tightly about him, rocking slightly. His face was wet; he wasn't sure how. But hair curtained his face as he leaned down to hide his shame.

"Master, what's wrong? Master...please speak to me. Tell me what's wrong, please, Master Obi-Wan."

With gentle arms surrounding him and a warm hand making soft circles on his back, Obi-Wan tried to gather his courage to face his apprentice. She was standing next to him, bent down, her face a mask of worry. He pulled her to him, hiding himself in her tunics.

His voice was muffled, distorted with grief. "She's dead. She's dead and I didn't know. Couldn't help her. They just tossed her out of the Temple like garbage, my gentle Bant, and they killed her."

"Master, who are you talking about? Who is this Bant, a friend of yours?" He nodded, cloth rough against his face, then pulled back, blinking away the unshed tears.

He breathed in despair. Looking down at the sterile floor, away from his Padawan's questing eyes, he whispered, "Oh, Atel, they murdered her - just as surely as if they had taken a vibroblade and plunged it into her heart."

She knelt down, catching Obi-Wan's stormy eyes with her own. Her hand was still gently stroking his arm, trying to calm him but he was too distraught for comfort. "Master, you are not making sense. Who killed her?"

He was about to accuse the Jedi Council but stopped, his throat tight with grief.

Atel, however, must have caught the thought as soon as it was formed. She drew back, her eyes flashing with indignation. Voice cool, she chided, "Master Obi-Wan, you can't be serious. That's impossible."

He merely nodded, trying to suppress the anguish so that he could think clearly.

The image of Bant, floating bloated in a wind-tossed sea, lifeless eyes bulging, her chest pierced with a lightsaber blade, one arm cauterized neatly at the wrist, kept intruding in his thoughts as though it were some abhorrent vision of the past.

He swallowed hard. Breathing deeply, he straightened up, and sent a vehement look towards his apprentice. "Look at the numbers. Look at them!" He thrust his hand towards the dataport screen, voice cracking as he murmured. "Just look. The Order has thrown away more than 5400 Jedi. Tossed them away and for what?"

His voice rose in sudden fury. "Money. Those bloody bastards have destroyed everything that the Jedi stood for."

"Master, stop this. I cannot hear any more or I will have to inform the Council. Please stop."

He nodded sharply. "Oh, yes, the Council and I will be having a little discussion when we return. You can be sure of that."

She looked at him, her eyes wide in disbelief. "Master, do not say such things. The Jedi Council has always acted in the best interests of the Order. Those who were dismissed deserved it. Surely you must..."

Obi-Wan interrupted her, his voice winter-cold, "I do not agree. How can you defend the Council's actions? They did not deserve such a fate. If you truly think that, I...what lessons have you learned at the Temple that you could spout such filth?"

She frowned. "Lessons I learned through your example...loyalty to the Order, following the will and instructions of the Jedi Council without question, completing the mission at all costs. Master Obi-Wan, we are a great Master/Padawan team, the best in the Temple. We do that by following the rules. You have taught me that. What else is there to learn?"

"Compassion, for one." His heart was filled with storm-grey anguish and red fury.

She shook her head again, looking fiercely unhappy. "Master, I do feel compassion for those who deserve it. The expelled ones did not live up to the Jedi ideals or expectations of the Council. They failed the Jedi." Her eyes softened, sympathy in her gaze. "I am sorry, very sorry for your friend. Even those who were gone from the Order do not merit death."

"Atel, you don't understand. It's more than just Bant's death." He scowled at her, jaw clenched with grim determination. "Anakin was right."

"It's not possible. He was just making it up." She backed away from Obi-Wan and shook her head.

"No, look." He grabbed Atel's arm, pulling her forward to face the dataport screen. "Look at the numbers. Jedi, loyal, faithful Jedi, are being forced out of the Temple on the flimsiest of excuses and then someone or something is killing them."

His voice chilled further. "Sle'fey knew it and the Council must know it. We've never heard even the slightest of rumors. Padawan, they've been suppressing the truth for years."

Atel drew back, mouth tight and flat with censure, her eyes flashing alarm at his words. "No, I'm sorry about your friend but the Council didn't have anything to do with her death or the others. They couldn't have."

He snorted bitterly at that. "Not directly, of course. But these people were thrown out, without friends or family or money. Easy targets, easy prey." His eyes narrowed. "And the Council did nothing about it. No protection, no warnings, nothing. Just kept on with the status quo."

"Master, the Jedi did not have the money to protect them. They could hardly keep up with those still with the Order, with the cutbacks and budget problems. You cannot blame the Council for this."

"Then who should I blame?" He looked at her hard, eyes narrowed.

"The Senate controls the money. Perhaps, the answers can be found there."

Frowning in concentration, Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "The Senate..."

"Master, leave it for now. We're both tired and you've just found out about your friend. You need to come to terms with this knowledge. Perhaps, dinner and then mediation?"

"Very well, Padawan. I will leave it alone for the moment. But be assured, that this is not the end. I will find out the truth."


	16. Chapter 9: Drowning in lies part 3

Chapter 9: **Drowning in Lies**

Part 3

The diner was small, shabby and crowded. Tucked into a small alleyway near the spaceport, the eatery had a reputation for good, filling, and more importantly, cheap food. The place was crawling with beings of all types: humans, Barabels, Twi'leks and several species that were too exotic to name. Most dressed in simple working garb, roughly-used clothing, garments fraying about the edges, stained and worn. The two Jedi, with their tattered and threadbare robes, merited hardly a glance.

Atel sat there quietly, watching her Master, peering at him from time to time out of the corner of her eye. He was staring off into space, his sea-green eyes hooded, a thoughtful frown etching his face. She was beginning to worry seriously about this mission and about him.

It had seemed straightforward, a simple arrest and deliver, but Master Obi-Wan was strangely reluctant to pursue the directives of the Council. He had been sidetracked often, too often, first in dealing with Qui-Gon Jinn and then with the revelations of Jedi dismissals and his friend's death.

She did understand his grief and anger. She, too, had lost friends; a Jedi's life is a hard one and often short. But her Master was beginning to see enemies behind every bush when he should be focusing on this mission, on doing as the Jedi Council had instructed, on following the Code.

She recognized that her Master had discovered important information but she was confident that the Council would deal with it. They were, after all, the wisest of all the Jedi and much more in tune with the will of the Force than she. Besides, it was not her concern; Master Obi-Wan was.

Atel wasn't sure how to pierce the barrier of stony silence now surrounding them. She had argued twice with her Master - twice in less than a day, and the disagreements were both intense and ferocious.

This was unprecedented. Obi-Wan was a kind and patient teacher, willing to explain even the simplest of lessons, and, until this mission, they had never argued - disagreed sometimes but never to this extent. She was beginning to think that there was something seriously wrong with Master Obi-Wan. Was he losing his reason or his grasp on the reality of the situation? She would have to watch him more closely - for his sake.

With that thought, she glanced at him again, meeting his troubled eyes. "Master, I am sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, especially..."

He just shook his head. "Atel, the news of ...Bant was unsettling but I should not have argued with you about it. As your Master, it is my duty to instruct without anger, to lead you to enlightenment within the Force and I did not do that." He paused, "We do seem to be at odds on this mission but perhaps it is to be expected." His eyes unfocused for a moment and then he looked at her directly. "After all, you are growing up, learning to be independent, a Jedi and soon you will on your own. I will not be there to guide you."

"But you do guide me, every day. You have been a wonderful teacher."

Obi-Wan grimaced at that, saddened. "Perhaps...perhaps not. It appears that I haven't yet taught you that rules are sometimes made to be broken."

She scowled and sat back, arms tightly crossed. He continued, "No, it is my failing, not yours, Padawan. I think that I will need to meditate on this for some time, to see my way clearly."

He was contrite. "Enough for now. Tell me what you have discovered today."

She began to outline the paths of enterprise of the Jinn fortune. Qui-Gon Jinn owned the farm outright with all its peripherals, land, equipment, offices in town; he was also partnered in the Arcona Mineral Harvest Corporation, Kuat Shipping, the Thyferran Bacta League and three small biotechnology firms.

Obi-Wan smiled for a moment. "Is Si Teemba still a member of the Arcona mining firm? He was a good friend many years ago."

"Yes, Master, he is now a vice president. In fact, Master Jinn contacted him initially about the partnership and it seems to have worked out quite well."

"Good. And have you found any wrong-doing with regard to Qui-Gon in any of these?"

"That is the odd thing, Master. Kuat representatives are well-known for semi-legal and illegal transactions as is the Bacta League but I can find no link to Master Jinn. It appears that he is strictly above board in all of his dealings and I have investigated thoroughly. If there were something, I should have found it."

"Then your analysis is complete?" he asked.

"No, Master. I have one more lead that I would like to pursue tomorrow. Jinn is part owner of two mining consortiums, the Arcona group I just mentioned and something called Offworld."

Obi-Wan started at that, scowling. "Offworld. He couldn't...he wouldn't have dealings with them."

"Master, the records are clear. He owns a sizable portion of Offworld Mining. Is there a problem?" Atel grew worried as he continued to stare, his unfocused eyes cloudy. "Master?"

He shrugged imperceptibly. "Maybe. My Padawan, dig deep tomorrow. Offworld is recognized for its intensive use of theft, murder and deception in business." He looked at her, a heavy frown troubling his face. "Atel, this is important. I can feel it. Dig deep."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

It was night when they left the busy diner. The pale moons were not due to rise for some hours; darkness seemed to blanket the area, edged by the glaring circles of fiery streetlamps and the space-black alleyways.

Slowly walking down towards the spaceport, the pair soon found themselves among a seamy mixture of rundown taverns, parlors of pleasure and pain, and hideously-painted cantinas filled with loud disagreements. The street, too, was teaming with sentient beings, looking for a good time. Apparently, the port had more than its share of independent pilots and crew, and shore leave was always a priority for working pilots.

Obi-Wan was not particularly concerned. The two Jedi had often traveled in less august circles with little trouble. He knew, too, that they could easily handle the furtive shadow trailing them.

"Master, you realize that we are being followed," Atel murmured, glancing imperceptibly towards the evasive humanoid skulking a few meters behind them, hidden in the deep recesses of a tawdry shop's doorway.

"Of course. He's been tracking us for quite some time." He smiled slightly, without warmth. "Padawan, I was fishing for information last night and I believe that we have netted an informant." Shrugging, he stopped before a noisy tavern, leaning up against the dingy, peeling wall. "He wants to talk to me about his concerns and I am going to let him."

Their elusive pursuer hesitated for a moment, pretending to look the storefront's garish display. Standing there, lightsabers gleaming in the light, the Jedi were certainly daunting. Apparently unsure if following them had been such a good idea, the man seemed to waver. But then he straightened and strode past the two, muttering softly, "Follow me."

Obi-Wan nodded, waiting for the fellow to get some distance before both Jedi began to saunter in the same direction. He glanced at his apprentice. "He may want to be a little less conspicuous. Let's find a more welcoming environment, shall we?"

They trailed him for some distance, the crowds and pulsating lights of the shops dwindling to a few lamps here and there. Finally, the man disappeared into a midnight-dark alleyway and Obi-Wan did not hesitate to follow. Their potential informant was waiting just inside the squalid space, nervously playing with his black nerfhide jacket, the concealed blaster peering out from time to time as he moved.

Obi-Wan stood calmly, at ready stance. "Sir, we are at your disposal."

The man's dark eyes flicked anxiously from Obi-Wan to Atel and back again. A raspy voice muttered, "I heard you're looking for dirt on Jinn. That true?"

Obi-Wan nodded slightly. "It is true that we are looking for information on one Qui-Gon Jinn. And you are?"

"You want my name? Are you insane?" The fellow seemed incredulous and shook his head frantically. "No, no names."

Obi-Wan spoke softly, hoping to calm their informant. "All right, friend. No names. Do you have anything?"

"Yeah, for a price. How much you got?" His derisive laugh was sharp as Obi-Wan shook his head. "Not much. The Jedi Council does not pay for information. We are a poor order and..."

An annoyed growl interrupted him. "Yeah, yeah, so I heard. Damn. I figured sure that you would have something sweet for this kind of info. All right, all right. I'm here now and I owe Jinn for that little number he did on me. So here it is..."

"What little number? Did he hurt you?"

"No, that would be too dirty for the likes of him, might get his hands all soiled, might ruin his _reputation_. That's a laugh. He just makes sure you never work again if you cross him or his little band. Sometimes, though, some of his enemies...well, they disappear. Don't know if he does it or maybe it's his self-righteous Bendu group. Don't know." The man shook his head, frowning. "I had a few... sidelines, making good money, too, until he told on me to the security forces. Was out of circulation for a few years and all because of that bastard. Now, I get to tell on him. Ironic, isn't it?"

"Yes, quite ironic. And what do you have for me?" Obi-Wan's sarcasm was lost on the odious man.

"It's a real good piece of dirt. Our dear upstanding citizen Qui-Gon Jinn's been going to Tatooine and Ryloth several times a year, him or his friends. Well... every time, he comes back with large packages, very large." No-name began to chuckle wickedly at that, his mouth a vicious smirk. "Yeah, he's been buying slaves, lots of them."

Closing his eyes for a brief moment, his face set in stone, the despair that boiled within Obi-Wan was deep, ferocious. A small whisper of protest escaped his throat.

Atel's brown eyes went wide with dismay as she looked towards Obi-Wan but she said nothing. She didn't need to; she must have seen the slight tremble of his hands and felt the depth of his grief.

He was lost. And Obi-Wan no longer knew what to believe.

"Yeah, Jedi, you heard right. Slaves. Lots of them. Sometimes they come back with small groups, sometimes large. After he unloads them at the dock, they get moved over to the Bendu Sanctuary for a little while." No-name shrugged. "Then they disappear, right off the face of Naboo. Probably sells them pretty quickly to a consortium or something. Slick, mightily slick. Slavery is one hugely profitable scam, just capture and move them out. No fuss, no money up front, almost pure profit."

No-name smiled, satisfied. "Seems that Jinn's hands aren't so clean after all."

Obi-Wan couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Finally, staring at the repulsive man, he mumbled, "Yes, apparently not clean at all."


	17. Chapter 10: Lighting the darkness

Chapter 10: **Lighting the darkness only brings shadows**

Obi-Wan did not say much after the informant left. Atel paid the loathsome parasite twenty credits, all that she had in her pouch, but the lowlife merely frowned at the small amount, groaned in disgust and stomped away, shaking his head and muttering about tightfisted misers.

Blinking furiously, Obi-Wan brusquely shouldered past her, mumbling something about katas, meditation and seeing her in the morning. Without waiting for her reply, he thrust a few credits at her and turned away.

She stood there, stunned, money clenched in one hand and watched him go. He seemed so alone, his ragged cloak wrapped tightly about him like an ebony shroud, his body hunched and smaller somehow.

After a few moments, knowing that he would not accept her solace but resolute in her determination to help him, she followed him deeper into the shadows. She could not leave her Master alone now, not like this. He did not acknowledge her although she was a few paces behind him, but he plodded soundlessly towards some unseen goal.

The whispered murmur of falling water was a far-off lure that pulled both of them towards a small, quiet park tucked in one of the side streets. An overgrown hedge, massively black against the darkened sky, hid most of the grassy area from the lane. But there were also trees and a tiny bench hidden in the foliage. A stone fountain gleamed bone and ebony as liquid dribbled down the roughened wall. Away from prying eyes, it would have been perfect for relaxation, perfect for a kata or two, in the daylight. But at night it was a black maw, inky walls and midnight-dark weeds.

Her Master did not seem to notice the murky gloom but strode swiftly to the stone bench, flung down his cloak and stood there quite still for a moment, lightsaber in hand. Reaching up, gathering in the Force, suddenly his saber was ablaze with light, moving, binding him in its glow. He began to advance, flowing more swiftly into the kata, speeding up the moves, impossibly fast, until the light seemed to be everywhere at once. His face, lit briefly as the bright blade twirled by in an infinity loop, appeared serene but his eyes were closed, the intense frown tunneling his brow.

The kata seemed to go on forever as he twisted and spun his body in impossible ways, always with the luminous glow encasing his form. The saber flung blue light, etching the bench and trees in stark relief with razored sketches of ink and azure as he flowed past.

Huge and twisted, the ghosting shadows on the far walls spun and whirled with each movement of the blade. It would have been beautiful beyond words, that ethereal radiance, riveting and breathtaking, if not for the ripples of despair flowing through the Force.

The parry and thrust of the saber began to slow imperceptibly. He was sweating now as he reached into the final forms of the kata, body trembling with the last flourish of the blade. At last, head bent, he stopped for a moment, took a hurried breath and shifted again into the beginning patterns of a second kata.

Always pushing himself, the tumultuous patterns of azure light betraying something of his inner turmoil, Obi-Wan flowed into a third kata and then a fourth.

Atel stood still, watching her Master at war with himself. She knew that he should be acknowledging the sorrow, releasing it into the Force as he had taught her. Instead, it encased Obi-Wan, shackling his movements.

He seemed angry, despair battling with regret, as he moved through the fire dance. At last, his body shouted what he could not accept. The buckling drift of arms and legs, rasping breath so fast and rough, his frame trembled as he pushed himself past the pain. Finally, he flung himself to the ground, the last kata complete. The park plunged into darkness.

Atel rushed to his side, reaching down to help him up. Instead, he growled, "I told you that I'd see you in the morning. I don't want you here."

"Master? I only thought..."

His eyes were pinpoints of starlight as he breathed out. "Go back to your room."

"Please, please Master...let me help you." Her soft voice was ragged with worry.

He must have felt her concern because he settled back and closed his eyes. Guilt seemed to gentle his reply. "Padawan, you cannot. I must do this alone. Now as my apprentice, you are honor-bound to obey me. Return to your room. I will see you in the morning."

She rose up, penitent. "Yes, Master. Good-night." Bowing slightly, she turned and walked away. Before she rounded the corner, she glanced back at Obi-Wan. He was still sitting in the shadowy grass, one arm wrapped around his drawn-up knees, his hooded eyes focused on the darkened saber cradled in his upturned hand.

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The morning scramble for the data port's public access facilities was well begun by the time the Jedi arrived. When, at long last, the room became available, Atel strode quickly to one of the outlets and plugged her datapad in, clearly anxious to begin.

There was much to do. Obi-Wan trailed behind, sitting down heavily, dull eyes staring impassively at the computer screen.

He had been up most of the night, trying to release his anger and despair into the Force, apparently without success. He said little, his face a mask of stoic neutrality, and he appeared outwardly serene, a superb example of the legendary Jedi facade. But she must have felt his pain because she kept glancing at him and frowning concern.

Obi-Wan felt numb, uncaring. It was almost as if he were grieving for the loss of something that was essential to him - hope, perhaps or faith - something that he had not known existed until it was gone.

"Master, I'm going to continue looking into Jinn's Offworld connection. I'm about to download his mission summaries. They've finally arrived from the Temple Archives. Is there anything else you wish me to do?"

"No." It was hardly above a whisper.

With another concerned look, she turned back to the datapad and began the convoluted and often frustrating investigation of Jinn's dealings.

Obi-Wan glanced at his Padawan Learner and then back at his monitor, staring at the darkened screen for several moments. Last night's discoveries had corrupted him somehow, shredding his perception of truth.

He was sure that the man had been mistaken. Qui-Gon Jinn could not be selling slaves. It was not in his character. It may have been ten years but his Master was more likely rescuing the poor creatures than making a profit from their pain.

And yet, and yet... Obi-Wan had begun to doubt his faith in his Master and in himself. His reality had been battered with the tumultuous revelations of the Jedi Council's complacency. He still could not believe that the Jedi Order would betray their own, to stand by and let them die, alone and unaided.

But the facts were indisputable; the Council knew. And if that were true, could Qui-Gon Jinn be any less mired in slavery and abuse of the Force?

He shook his head, then hunched down, pulling his ragged robe tightly about him and whispered, "Time to find some answers."

He began to pull up the transportation records. He knew that Tatooine and Ryloth were the main source of slaves in the Outer Rim and Master Jinn had been there many times over the years. Qui-Gon Jinn's forays into that area of space had seemed suspicious. Now there was a focus.

Initially, Jinn had used public transport or borrowed ships, often ones registered with the Abolitionist Union, to conduct business. However, Qui-Gon Jinn or rather the companies he partnered quickly amassed a number of freighters, Corellian class, and he used them for his travels off-world. His old Master seemed to favor one ship, _Serenity_, for most of his flights to the Outer Rim. The small freighter, its type well-known for its powerful hyperdrive and superb maneuverability, would be perfect for transporting cargo of any kind, including slaves.

It seemed straightforward. Any ship leaving the planet could depart after forwarding an itinerary, listing passengers, cargo, and destination. However entry into Naboo space required a stop at the port for an inspection before traveling to their final destination - no exceptions, even for the heroes of Naboo. With their sophisticated sensor grid covering the planet, all ships were tracked and apparently Qui-Gon followed the rules every time.

When Jinn did carry 'passengers' to Naboo, a customs agent always came onboard seeking answers to questions about names, occupations, and where they would be staying while planet bound. Occasionally, inspectors might delve into more personal details, especially if the individuals were suspicious-looking.

Slaves would certainly have been detected quickly. But no unusual behavior or appearance was noted with any of the outworlders on Jinn's ships.

Obi-Wan's tension began to ease. Obviously, the informant's little performance last night had been a crude attempt to cause trouble for his Master.

Shaking his head with annoyance at his own folly, he thought ruefully, _And it had almost succeeded. I should have known better._ Of course, there was no evidence. The idea that Qui-Gon was dealing in slaves was ludicrous. It just wasn't possible. Besides, if there had been proof, the port officials would have noticed and surely arrested him before this. Naboo's anti-slavery stance was absolute. No one, not even a Jedi Master, could have kept this secret.

He was about to halt the download of passenger information to his datapad when something caught his eye. There it was, a puzzle under the drifting details of arrival and departure. Running his hand over his eyes for a moment, trying to clear his thoughts, he huffed with frustrated annoyance. _Blast. Not another riddle_. He was sorely tempted to ignore it, but in the end, could not.

He began to look more closely. According to the port records, in the past five years, each of Jinn's passengers had had remarkably similar responses to the bureaucratic questions - a simple and easily remembered name, an occupation such as laborer or domestic worker, and one of the cheap hotels near the spaceport listed as their destination.

Everything seemed clear and straightforward. It was always the same pattern.

The freighter would land at Qui-Gon's private docking bay located at the far end of the port, and once the ship was cleared for debarkation, the passengers were allowed to leave. Invariably, they were picked up by one of Jinn's transportation agencies. But they never arrived at their lodgings - and never left Naboo. It was almost as if the individuals were herded into the air-taxis and promptly vanished.

_Damn it, Qui-Gon. What are you playing at_? Obi-Wan was bewildered, confused. People didn't just disappear - unless they wanted to, unless they were forced to, unless they were smuggled off-world and sold.

This did not make sense. Surely someone must have protested or noticed something was amiss.

But as he gathered in the names and dates of passengers, as the list grew longer, he realized that there had been no outcry, no questions about the disappearing outworlders, no harsh demands for answers to this puzzle. That worried Obi-Wan. That would imply that Qui-Gon did not do this, whatever it was, on his own.

He had to have help, a lot of help.

_Of course he had help, you idiot. The Abolitionist __Union_ _, spaceport officials, maybe Windu. Mace had gone with Qui-Gon on a number of forays to the Outer Rim. Whatever it was, this scheme ran wide and deep._

Obi-Wan knew that he needed something concrete, some clue to this frustrating enigma but try as he might, he could not find anything tangible in the recent past. He began to rummage through the older files, scanning backwards, towards the beginning of Qui-Gon's time on the planet, before his Master had perfected whatever scam was going on.

Finally, a name popped up that could be traced to a location on Naboo and then another name and another - twelve names out of hundreds - twelve potential answers to his questions.

In all cases, his 'answers' had stayed at Jinn's ranch or at the Bendu Sanctuary immediately following entry into Naboo. Vel Thene was now living in Theed as was Qunete Jumung. Denth Tre'sey moved to a small town on the other side of the planet. Reuno A'Mare, Iliana Treant and Shmi Skywalker were living with the Bendu at their retreat, just north of the spaceport.

_Wait...Skywalker. A relative of Anakin's, perhaps. And she is close by_. He frowned at that. Anakin had never mentioned anyone. Sure_, Kenobi. As if he were going to tell you anything_... The other six individuals were scattered over the planet. Interviewing them all would take some time.

Obi-Wan leaned back, staring at the monitor. The mystery of the Bendu Sanctuary, with its enigmatic swarm of ex-Jedi and potential for a rival Temple, had called to him earlier. Now there was one more reason to go, one more puzzle to solve. Closing his eyes for a moment, taking a deep cleansing breath to focus his thoughts, he could sense the faint nudges of the Force. This felt right. Perhaps some of the questions surrounding Master Jinn would be revealed this day. Yes, it was time to visit the Bendu.

In his quest to solve this frustrating paradox, he had almost forgotten about his apprentice. Startling him out of his reverie, Atel let out a joyous whoop, "I've got you now, Master Jinn."

Muttering quietly to himself, he glanced at his elated Padawan. She was sitting there, grinning with pride. "I've found the connection to the Offworld Mining, Master. He's been using the Force, threats and more to acquire ownership of several of the consortium's mines. No wonder he was able to buy so much of Offworld's property."

Obi-Wan frowned, his eyes narrowing. "That doesn't seem possible. Are you sure, Atel? We must have proof."

"Absolutely, Master. See here." She pointed to the list of Offworld's holdings on the screen, brown eyes gleaming with excitement. "He approached the mining consortium last year with an offer to buy one of the Telosian mines - for far less than market value, I might add. The offer was refused, point-blank. The mine's owner, Petha Ven'tl, accused Jinn of threatening him and his workers if the deal didn't go through and even tried to bring him up on charges of intimidation and assault. The very next day, Jinn acquired the mine. Ven'tl, the man who had turned him down, rescinded his accusations, and left the capital in a hurry."

"It happens all the time in business, Padawan. Perhaps, the consortium's governing board didn't like the man's accusations and shipped him elsewhere or threw him out of the syndicate."

"I'm sorry, Master, but he turned up a week later. Dead. There wasn't much left of his body, only small pieces but it was enough for a genetic scan. Apparently, Ven'tl had fallen or been pushed into an acid pond at the Sacred Pools." She paused, uncertain. "It's a park outside the capital of Telos."

Obi-Wan scowled at Atel, his voice gravelly with dismay. "I know where it is."

"Master, I know you do. The mission report from the Temple was quite explicit. It said that your old Master had been on Telos some years before and had gone to the Sacred Pools in pursuit of a criminal, his former Padawan, Xanatos du Crion. It also said that Jinn had left for Telos on this vendetta without the approval of the Council, against their express wishes, and that you went with him."

He remembered it well, haunted remembrance.

She seemed to feel his pain as she continued, "The three of you fought and the culprit died, jumping into the acid pool to escape imprisonment. Apparently, Ven'tl died the same way."

Obi-Wan was indignant, eyes narrowing as he glared at her. "Are you accusing Master Qui-Gon of murdering this man? Just because he died at the same place in the same way as his former apprentice? That is absurd."

"Well, it could be a coincidence. But, Master, a month later, the same thing happened again - same pattern. Another Telosian mine from the Offworld syndicate, another complaint against your former Master, another accusation of threats and mutterings about mind tricks, more vehement this time, and then the accuser retracts his complaints, abruptly leaves the capital and Jinn owns a second mine. And the guy ends up dead - same place, same way."

Atel took a deep steadying breath and continued, "Master, it happened a third time and a fourth. As of last month, by my calculations, Jinn owns a third of Offworld's mining ventures on Telos and is on the board of directors. He's been siphoning off the profits and keeping them in a separate account, for his use only."

Obi-Wan shook his head, sharply. "No. Qui-Gon Jinn would not go around killing people for profit. It's ridiculous. Do you have any other proof other than Offworld rumors? They are known for manipulation and substantial deceit."

"Yes, Master, I know, but it's more than just rumors. The charges against Jinn for threats and assaults are listed in the security records on Telos and they match the dates of the accusations. These records are considered by the Republic to be tamper-proof so they must be accepted as fact." Obi-Wan scowled at that.

"The disavowals were there as well, always worded the same way - welcoming Qui-Gon Jinn as a benefactor, expressing astonishment that any charges were filed, denying that they had made the complaints. Sounds like Jinn manipulated the Force to change their minds and then they were murdered. Either way, they won't be accusing him ever again."

He began to protest but Atel raised her hand to stop him. "I agree that it is always possible, however unlikely, that the Telosian files were false. But the Naboo flight plan records show that Jinn was on Telos each time the accusations and retractions were made and he was there when the murders took place."

Obi-Wan's frown deepened but she pressed on. "But more importantly, Master Jinn's own company files their tax records quarterly as per regulations. The Offworld mines are listed as part of his personal holdings. Last month, Qui-Gon Jinn signed the forms himself."

"Damn." Obi-Wan sighed heavily, mouth grimacing in adamant refusal. "Atel, I don't believe it, not for a moment, that Qui-Gon Jinn would murder these people. Not Qui-Gon. Mind-trick, maybe, but murder... no. There is something wrong, I can feel it."

His apprentice opened her mouth to protest but he quickly said, "Records can lie. It is easy enough for a slicer to tamper with the files, make them spew nonsense like this. We must do more than just accept the official reports. At the very least, we should talk to some of the mine's staff, get evidence from other sources. I know that these findings are ominous but there is a lot at stake here. If we find that this is correct, he will be sent to a prison colony for the remainder of his life or worse, put to death. His possessions would be confiscated and his wife and son rendered penniless. Padawan, we must be sure."

"Master, but how? We are on the other side of the galaxy from Telos. The Council will not send us there at this time. It would be a waste of resources."

"I agree. However, when we return to Coruscant, we will have access to the records of the Republic. Besides, there should be a Jedi team near Telos. Perhaps, they could investigate this. It wouldn't take much time." He nodded, satisfied. "When we contact the Council this evening, I will request it."

"Yes, Master Obi-Wan. What do we do now?"

He sighed, suddenly tired. "The rumor that Qui-Gon is running a slaver operation has not been confirmed or denied but there is a puzzle there. I need to gather more information. I've found a number of individuals that may have some answers living at the Bendu Sanctuary. I had already planned to visit the place after mid-day, to see if this gathering of former Jedi were a truly philosophical society. Or perhaps they are hiding something more sinister."

"Maybe, we could go there...after food?" She looked at him, widening her eyes in wistful entreaty. Obi-Wan almost smiled at that.

"All right, my Padawan. After mid-day meal."

* * *

Author's note: I started writing this story several years ago, way before Firefly. So Qui-Gon's ship's name came before the _Serenity_ of that tv show. I did consider changing it but it fits him too well. 


	18. Chapter 11: Sanctuary part 1

**Chapter 11: Sanctuary**

**Part 1**

The Bendu Sanctuary was a mere five kilometers north of the spaceport. With the gleaming saw-toothed mountains a spectacular backdrop, the heart of the complex was nestled among rolling hills and sweetly-scented, whispering trees. A waist-high stone wall guarded the property. Beautifully colored in greys and greens, the sunlit stone gleamed with mica and quartz, the flicker of light changing as Obi-Wan and Atel drove along its length. A series of two-meter-high engraved silver posts were placed at regular intervals inside the fence. Obi-Wan wondered at their purpose.

At length, the Jedi reached a large granite archway, intricately carved. The only portal into the property, it seemed open and inviting. On the right side of the entrance, imbedded in the stone, was a small bronze placard, proclaiming 'Bendu Sanctuary'. There were no gates.

As Obi-Wan drove up the winding pathway, he noted that the trees had thinned out and vast tracts of grass and low bushes now covered the area surrounding the complex. To one side, past several outbuildings, a large garden could be seen and beyond, there were harvested fields of crops.

The main structure was extensive. Gently curving away from the path, with elegant rounded turrets flanking either end and a central circular tower as entryway, the building was a full three stories high. The facade was lovely in polished and cut grey-green stone, carved in a delicate, intricate pattern that caught the light and reflected it back in sparkling myriad colors. Beautifully-arched windows, in typical Naboo style, looked out over the drive. The curvilinear roofs gleamed a deep jade-green.

The tower's centered entrance was framed with a low, sweeping stone porch, one side covered in flowering vines. A large sign, in bronze and indigo, hung over the main door stating 'Bendu Sanctuary' with a smaller inscription below 'Serenity and Compassion - Twin Paths to the Light'.

As the Jedi stopped the landspeeder at the gardened path leading to the front door, Obi-Wan noticed a slight movement at one of the windows. He was not concerned at the moment; the Bendu did not seem hostile. In fact the whole place exuded peace and a luminous strength in the Living Force. They quickly moved up the stairs and strode through the open door.

With the grand facade outside, Kenobi had thought that the main hall into the building would be large, stately, imposing. Instead, there was an atrium garden with trickling waterfall and scented blossoms; the place alive with light and color and sound invited them in. Here and there were scattered benches, clearly encouraging contemplation and quiet conversation. Beyond the green-filled space, through large, etched transparasteel doors, a spacious room held several alcoves with comfortable seating and privacy screens.

By the inner doors, dressed in blue tunic and leggings, a young Naboo man stood, patiently waiting for them. He bowed slightly and said in a low soothing voice, "Welcome to the Sanctuary. I am Pavel Janson. How may the Bendu serve you?"

Both Jedi bowed and Obi-Wan went through the introductions. Pavel did not seem surprised but asked again. "Master Jedi, how may we be of service to the Republic representatives?"

"I wish to speak with Master Mace Windu and Mistress Shmi Skywalker. Please let them know we are here. My Padawan and I would also like a tour of the facilities."

The Bendu was startled when Shmi's name was mentioned but he covered it up quickly. Motioning them further into the building, through the etched doors, he pointed to one of the alcoves and promised to bring the requested people as soon as they were available.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Moving into a private office beyond, Pavel quickly contacted Windu. "Master, the Jedi have arrived and are asking for you and for Shmi."

"What? Why does he want to see her?" His voice was startled, then sharp with speculation.

"Master, he did not say. But he does want to see the Sanctuary. What do I do?"

Windu sighed, resigned. "He has a right to see her. Tell him that I will be down momentarily. Contact Shmi and have us meet her at the west garden. Warn her to be wary of what she says to the Jedi - truth yes, but nothing more. I will need a few minutes to let Master Jinn know what is going on. Keep them busy until then."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hold."

Anakin stopped short, his lightstaff pulsing green fire as he hastily aborted his downward slash. His young body looked awkward in its arrested stance, unbalanced, his right knee askew, but he did not move.

After a few patient moments of silence, he glanced surreptitiously at Qui-Gon but his Master merely said, "Did you feel the wrongness in the movement, Anakin? At this point in the kata, your left foot should be pointing outward slightly as you move into the next form. Remember, too, a staff is not a lightsaber; both ends cut equally well. Try it again. From the third beat of the second set. Begin."

Anakin nodded slightly and started anew, his staff sending emerald flame into the far shadows of the barn. Flowing through the center space of the large building, his body glowed in the brilliant sunlight of midday, his motion stirring the air with its golden sparkle of dancing dust. He was light and darkness as he moved through the barred shafts of light and shadow. There was beauty, too, in the movement of the blades, wheeling, spinning, writing symbols of fire into the incongruous backdrop of harvesting droids and farm equipment.

Qui-Gon Jinn sat and watched his apprentice and was satisfied. Anakin had come a long way from the hell of slavery. One day he would make a fine Bendu champion, walking in the ways of the Light.

He glanced down at his son sitting there, the child mesmerized. Ben moved slightly, trying to mimic the sway of Anakin's body, unconsciously bringing his chubby hands up to hold an imagined staff. Qui-Gon smiled indulgently, remembering how the young ones in the Jedi crèche had done similar things with their training sabers.

His son was growing up so fast. Before long, he would be going to the Sanctuary and learning the ways of the Force and the Bendu. Too soon.

Anakin slowed and then stopped, bowing as he finished his kata, waiting patiently for the next instruction. Qui-Gon nodded, motioning him over.

"Well done. Your skill with a lightstaff increases daily. Soon, you will be as adept with it as the saber. Now, I think that is enough for the morning. It is past mid-day and I'm sure that someone here is hungry." He looked indulgently at Ben, his eyes dancing at the child's sudden interest.

"Master, there is one thing I promised to show Ben before lunch." Anakin leaned down before the young one, catching his hands and winking. "Remember..."

The boy's voice was high-pitched and excited. "Please, Daddy. He did promise."

Qui-Gon tried hard not to smile but inclined his head in silent agreement. "I will be busy with a few chores. Come in when you are done." He looked at Anakin, mock-stern. "Nothing dangerous, nothing flashy, right?"

"Yes, Master." The pair moved into the shadows to the left, stopping before one of the smaller droids. Ben at his side, Anakin crouched on one knee, waving his hand before him. The child's soft giggles echoed in the vast space as a gleaming droid with lanky digits and long legs took one hop and then another towards the pair.

Anakin waggled his fingers and the metallic legs began to twitch as the mechanical sprang from side-to-side, twisting about. Ben lifted his hand as well, trying to imitate the gestures. Just for a moment, the droid jerked and then tumbled into a clumsy dance as Anakin regained control. Wide-eyed, Ben stepped back, holding his hand over his mouth, unable to stop the laughter from tumbling out as he watched the droid flitter about the barn.

Qui-Gon chuckled at the sight. He knew that he should be stern about such frivolous Force use but it was good practice for Anakin and Ben might learn a thing or two. Shaking his head, still grinning, he turned to go.

His comlink began to chirp. "Jinn here."

Mace Windu's voice was strained. "Qui-Gon, Kenobi and his Padawan have arrived and are asking questions."

"We knew that he would find out about the Sanctuary sooner or later. Is there a problem?"

"He's asking to see Shmi."

"What? Why?" Behind him, the sounds of waltzing droid quieted and hushed whispers peppered the air. "Hold on a moment, Mace." Sighing heavily, Qui-Gon looked back at the pair. They tried to look inconspicuous, gazing earnestly away, pretending not to hear while listening intently.

"Ben, please go back to the house. I want to talk with Anakin alone."

"But Daddy..." The plea was met with unbending refusal. The child's mouth turned downward, his brow beginning to set in stubborn determination but Qui-Gon was adamant. Dragging his feet, prolonging the moment, Ben reluctantly moved towards the exit and finally gave up, the door closing loudly behind him.

"Anakin, just listen for now. Mace, go ahead."

"Kenobi won't say why he wants to talk to Shmi but of course, as a Republic representative, he has the right to inspect everything here. And ask to see anyone under our protection."

Anakin started to speak but Jinn quickly shook his head, motioning for silence. "Mace, if he knows about her, I can only assume that he has tumbled onto our slave operation." Qui-Gon grimaced. "Damn. I had hoped for more time."

"What do I tell him?"

Glancing at Anakin, Qui-Gon sighed in resignation. "As little as possible for now. Slave issue aside, we knew that the Jedi would find out about us and investigate. A matter of when, not if." He hesitated for a moment, very aware that his apprentice was listening to every word. "Mace, we've already discussed this. You know that the Jedi will need a scapegoat."

Anakin stepped forward suddenly, his eyes wide with shock. "Master, no!"

Qui-Gon, swallowing hard, continued as if nothing had interrupted him. "Kenobi's bound to take me back to Coruscant on charges of starting an unauthorized Temple, no matter what we call it. And, if he finds the sabers, well..." He glanced quickly at Anakin who stood there, a deep frown clouding his young face. "I don't want him to find out what we are really doing with the slaves. It would ruin everything. If necessary, I will let him assume that I'm a slaver."

Mace's response echoed Anakin's. "No, I will not permit it. There must be some other way."

"What way? In their eyes, we are breaking the laws of the Republic. You know this. If they think I'm in the slave trade, they'll pay less attention to everyone else and you will have time to set up alternate routes." He closed his eyes for a moment, resigned. "Either way, Mace, I'm going to be imprisoned. You must let me go, for all our sakes."

The comlink voice was somber, resigned. "Very well, Qui-Gon. I hope that you are wrong. I will let you know when Kenobi leaves and what he finds. Mace out." The comlink clicked off.

The silence in the barn was palpable. Anakin stood there, shaking with emotion, rage or despair - it was difficult to tell. Finally, he whirled on his Master, brow furrowed in fury. "What do you think you are doing?"

"Anakin, please try to understand." Qui-Gon moved toward him, but the apprentice just backed away, out of reach.

"I don't want to understand. You are just going to let that blasted Jedi take you without a fight? How could you do that to me? To Le'orath? And what about Ben? Do you know what that will do to Ben?"

"I know, all too well." Deep sorrow knotted Qui-Gon's voice into a whisper. "What would you have me do, Anakin? The Jedi will not be content until they have their quarry and like it or not, they have chosen me."

Skywalker wrapped his arms around his body as if cold, huddling inward. Staring at Qui-Gon, he argued, "Fight them. Fight him. Damn it, Master, don't do this."

"If I fight and lose, they will take me anyway. If I fight and win... Anakin, to win I would have to injure or kill both Obi-Wan and his apprentice. Is that what you want? " A quick shake of the head and Anakin looked half ashamed, half furious. "If I win, they will send more Jedi. They will take me and a lot of Bendu with me. I cannot let that happen."

"So you are the sacrifice." Anakin looked away, jaw clenched, looking desperate and despairing. He turned, refusing to look at his Master and started for the door. Qui-Gon reached for him, catching the corner of his tunic, but the apprentice just twisted out of his grasp and stepped back, still avoiding his gaze.

"Anakin, accept this, please."

The young man stood there for a moment, silent as a marble statue, then nodded abruptly and turned to go. Pushing the door open, stepping out into the fresh air, Anakin looked back, seemingly torn between his duty to his Master and his fierce protective nature toward a man who had rescued him from slavery and treated him like a son ever since.

But there was nothing more to be said. The door closed shut.


	19. Chapter 11: Sanctuary part 2

**Chapter 11: Sanctuary**

**Part 2**

The two Jedi stood in the waiting room, silent, stoic and apparently serene. Mace Windu paused at the door, watching them. Memory can be a fickle thing, coloring heartsore thoughts with bright hope or deep sorrow.

For just a moment, only a moment, he longed to be within the Temple once more, going about the important work of the Order, basking in the deep peace of the gardens, sharing in the fellowship and dreams of the Jedi.

But that was long ago. Now he had a different mission, one as important, and he needed to remember that. Pushing through the transparasteel doors, he stopped before Obi-Wan and bowed slightly. "Welcome. It is good to see you again, Knight Kenobi. It has been too long." He turned to Atel. "And this must be your apprentice. Welcome to the Bendu Sanctuary, Padawan Sl'etah."

Glancing back at the Jedi Knight, he continued smoothly, "Pavel has told me that you wish a tour of our facilities. I will take you myself and you might tell me something of the Temple while we look around."

"Master Windu, I thank you. I have heard many good things about the Bendu and their Sanctuary. I am curious to see if all the tales are true."

Mace nodded. "Only as true as the Tales of the Jedi, I'm sure. I believe that you also wanted to speak with Shmi Skywalker. She will be joining us at the west garden if that is all right with you."

"That will be fine."

"If you will follow me, I will be glad to answer any question you might have about the Bendu." He motioned them through a side entrance and into the marbled many-doored corridor beyond. Moving slowly toward a set of carved panels in the far distance, Mace glanced briefly at the pair, his soft voice echoing in the deserted hallway.

"The Bendu Philosophical Group was founded about eight years ago. Our membership includes a wide range of individuals from all walks of life and we have several secondary offices scattered across Naboo. This is our largest facility. Here reside the bulk of administrative services for our group, living quarters where needed and a small school."

"It is most impressive. The Bendu must be doing quite well to be able to purchase such a large property."

"Don't be fooled by size, Obi-Wan. We acquired this site a little more than three years ago. It was a donation from a wealthy benefactor but was in fair to poor condition at the time. Through the sweat and skill of our members, we have been repairing it but the work is slow and the vast majority of our time is spent on things of more importance."

"Such as?"

Mace bowed his head for a moment, then, his voice firm, he looked directly at the Jedi Knight. "Serving the common people... of this system and others as well. Our primary goal is to provide aid, advice and physical support where needed, especially when disaster strikes but we also help individuals and small groups to avert potential problems as well."

Obi-Wan nodded, frowning slightly. "A worthy endeavor, indeed. The Jedi Order also serves the Republic's citizens. It appears we have the same goals and a common purpose."

Windu sent him a mild look of reproof. "On the surface, that is true. The Jedi are keepers of the Republic's peace and, theoretically, your service extends to all within its dominion."

"Theoretically?" Kenobi stopped abruptly, his voice hardening.

Mace's resigned sigh could be clearly heard in the hall. "Obi-Wan, I am not entirely ignorant of how the system works. The Order does not choose its assignments - they are mandated by the Senate and the Supreme Chancellor. Unfortunately, those in power within the Republic know only how to deal with governmental bureaucracies, self-serving autocrats and vast syndicates, not individuals and certainly not with the poor and defenseless. Jedi missions focus on the rich and powerful. It was not always true but it has been so for many years."

Up to this point, Atel seemed content to let her Master lead the discussion. Looking into the offices through the windowed doors, exploring the texture and vibrant feel of this Sanctuary, her observant eyes everywhere, she played the part of the passive Padawan well. But, now it appeared that she could not let his remarks pass without comment.

She stepped forward, her face a mask of stern disapproval as she started to object. Obi-Wan shot her a sharp warning glance, his hand moving subtly downward to brush her sleeve and she shrank back, chastised. Obi-Wan answered smoothly, "We are required to do the Senate's will."

Mace's eyes flicked between the two Jedi, then shrugged. "So you say."

Any retort from the Padawan was silenced as Kenobi probed further. "Tell me then. How do the Bendu serve the greater good if not through the channels of government?"

Disappointed in the question, Mace sighed softly. "Obi-Wan, we focus on helping those who have lost all. When catastrophe strikes, when disaster has wiped out the infrastructure and it is chaotic, we are there with aid and support - helping to alleviate suffering, finding lost souls, working with the local citizens to rebuild their communities. We cannot always avert calamity but we can help soften its cruel assault."

"Surely the Naboo authorities can direct you to areas where you can maximize your efforts. They should have a clearer picture of the scope of those needs than you."

The Bendu hesitated. "I admit that the current Naboo administration is better than most but we deal with other systems as well. We have found that large governments hunger to seize control of every situation and those within the bureaucracies will twist it to their own advantage. It appears to be the nature of things in these troubled times. The Bendu deal with the authorities as little as possible. We learned through pain and sorrow just how benevolent the Republic Senate could be and we will not repeat that mistake."

"But surely you need monies from the government to help fund your generosity." Kenobi seemed truly perplexed.

A wry smile crossed Mace's face. "What, and give them a leash to tighten when they want control? I think not. Obi-Wan, the Bendu policy is very strict on this issue. We aid those whom we wish to aid. The government does not dictate to us in any way nor do we take money from them. Our experience within the Jedi Order has been very instructive and we learned our lesson well."

"Then, how do you fund your Sanctuary and your aid to those less fortunate?"

"Donations, mostly donations. Our founding members have been quite generous with credits, Qui-Gon Jinn in particular. Plus we tend to be fairly self-sufficient. The crops and gardens surrounding this complex feed most of our people and what we cannot eat, we barter or sell. We live strictly within our means...another lesson from our time with the Jedi Order."

Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment, then tried a different approach. "You indicated that your organization was founded eight years ago. Any reason why you did not merely join other agencies with the same goals?"

"At the time, Naboo was in the midst of recovering from the Trade Federation's illegal invasion and it was chaotic. There had been great loss of life, especially among city-dwellers and administrators, and the local associations and the government were frantically trying to regroup. The internment camps were cesspools of disease - the beings within had been fed very little and the shelters were almost non-existent. And the devastation was everywhere." He stopped momentarily, remembering, his dark eyes liquid with sorrow.

"I read about it in our briefing." Obi-Wan prompted.

"The Republic refused to send any aid. They were mired in politics as usual and Naboo was far from Coruscant." The sarcasm in Mace's voice was clear. "We could not stand by and let the people suffer. We felt it best that the Bendu group unite to help aid those in need."

"Understandable. And just who makes up the Bendu association?"

Mace paused briefly. "In this building, we house our administrative offices. There is a library upstairs as well as several large lecture halls and two small salons for defense classes." Mace nodded towards the far end of the corridor and then began walking again in that direction. "This way leads to classrooms, living quarters, a gymnasium and our cooking facilities."

As Kenobi was about to interrupt, Mace gestured for silence. "I have not forgotten your question, Obi-Wan. The Bendu was originally founded by former members of the Jedi Order, myself and Qui-Gon Jinn along with several others."

"May I have the names of those others?"

"I'm sure that you already do. It is a matter of public record."

Kenobi's eyes narrowed. "And did you think that the Jedi Order might not take kindly to former members combining forces?"

"I do not care what they thought." The sharp sarcasm was back in his voice, just for a moment and then it softened. "Obi-Wan, we had been left without resources, many of us penniless. In the beginning, we banded together as much for protection and need as for service to others. Forgive me if you find that offensive but we...it was a rough time for all of us."

"So I have heard."

"In the beginning, there were just a few Bendu but, knowledge of our organization spread and soon many former Jedi came to the area, looking for a safe refuge and, ultimately, a new home."

"Refuge? Why would they need a refuge?" Such a leading question and it would seem that Kenobi was trying to trip him up.

"Yes, a refuge, a safehouse, if you will...some place where they could regain their composure after dismissal and think about what they wanted to do next. It is a very hard thing to be tossed aside from all that you have known and loved. Don't you agree, Obi-Wan?"

Kenobi looked away for a moment, nodding, remembering the past and not happy with that memory. "Yes."

The Padawan's reaction to that single word was a frown and a sidelong glance toward Kenobi.

It would seem that the Learner thought her Master entirely too empathetic towards the Bendu. After all, he had let slip several opportunities for penetrating questions. Mace was sure that Obi-Wan's rule-bound apprentice would think that her Master was being entirely too lax about the situation. Perhaps he was but Mace wasn't going to help him, not with so much at stake.

In the meantime, the trio had reached the end of the corridor.

A set of carved wooden doors led into a short passageway, windowed on both sides, with several portals open to let in the fresh scent of the gardens and the joyous noise of birdsong. To the left, the ice-capped mountains gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight, a stunning backdrop to the panorama of gardens, the yellowed stubble of a just-completed harvest, the bright sliver of a small lake and green-treed woods in the distance.

On the right, the buildings were configured as a series of faintly semi-circular clusters, grouped in such a way that, from above, it was shaped like that of a trumpet blossom. With the exception of the front structure, all of the other buildings were two-storied, faced with the same beautiful grey-green stone, the jade-colored roofs gleaming in the sunlight. Windows and several arched doors faced inward towards the landscaped grounds.

Within the large interior garden was an extensive open area, slighly mounded to one side, its short soft grass perfect for picnics, drowsy naps or energetic katas. Clustered on the other side were a series of whispering trees, just now catching the breeze of late afternoon. Along the Sanctuary's glimmering facades were gathered several miniature greenery-strewn spaces, set like bright living jewels upon the necklace of each building's curve.

Every landscaped area had a different purpose: a meditation space with serene lines and flowing water was tucked into the far corner; a scented blossom-filled haven close to the main building was saturated with the sound of insects and birds sipping the nectar of a thousand plants; a monochromatic garden felt serene in multi-hued blues and greens; a shrubbed maze led into a quiet contemplative space.

It was full of the Living Force, pulsing with it, exuding an incredible calm. The Room of a Thousand Fountains had felt like this when he was young, eons past. He wondered if it is still existed or if it had been destroyed in the ten years of turmoil at the Temple. He wondered, too, if Kenobi would tell him if he asked.

Kenobi had stopped, staring out into the landscape. Mace came up quietly to him. "It almost feels like home, like the Temple."

The Jedi Knight nodded and then said softly, "Long ago. It is not like that now."

Mace was not surprised but still felt the loss. "No, I suppose not."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Atel was growing impatient listening to her Master and the Bendu talk about times past.

It was all well and good that the gardens were pretty and she had to admit the rhythm of the living Force was strong here. But the Temple had never felt like this in her memory. On Coruscant, it was sharper, more intense, filled with incredible pressure and breathless anticipation, not this green-soaked calm.

Perhaps they were remembering a story or a memory of a memory, colored by time and distance that sweetens even the sourest of dregs. Besides, the only time she remembered any gentle oneness with the Force was during meditation with her Master.

She sighed, knowing that they must move on. At this rate, they would find out what they needed by the next century. Finally, she pointed to the second set of ornate doors and asked, "What's in this building?"

"A fair question, Padawan Sl'etah. Come this way," And with that, Mace opened the doors. Beyond, a long curving hallway could be seen with myriad openings lining the corridor. "Most of this building is devoted to education with classrooms on the first floor and living quarters above. A number of rooms are set aside for exercise and meditation as well. The buildings across the courtyard that you saw earlier are in sore need of repair but we do not require them as yet so they remain unoccupied."

Atel was persistent. "Master Windu, forgive me but this complex seems deserted. Where are the students?" Obi-Wan shot her a quelling look.

Windu turned away, sighing with apology, and began walking down the hall, the Jedi hurrying to catch up. "Unfortunately, you have come at a most inopportune moment. The post-harvest semester break started a few days ago. Many of our students are either at home or on retreat with the Gungans at Otah Gunga. The teachers as well." He shrugged. "However, classes will begin again early next week. Perhaps if you are still here, we could give you a more comprehensive view of our school."

Her Master glanced her way, looking as if he didn't really believe Windu. She didn't believe him, either - an _inopportune_ _moment_, indeed.

However, Obi-Wan was nothing if not polite. "Thank you. We will certainly consider it. In the meantime, we would like to see some of the classrooms."

"Of course. You may go anywhere you choose."

Nodding to Windu, her Master looked at the numerous doorways lining the space and randomly pointed. "This one, I think."

Pulling the windowed door open, they found that the chamber within was overflowing with toys and games. Soft mats lined one side of the room and there were datapads and coloring tools scattered about. Clearly a child's classroom, it was brightly colored, filled with interesting bits and pieces meant to enchant a young one and, just as clearly, left in an unsettled state.

His eyes flicked to Atel and back to Mace. As her Master moved to the window and started to look through the large untidy stack of drawings heaped on the desk, Atel began to quietly search the clutter at the back of the room.

"You must start teaching them very young."

Windu came up beside her Master, seemingly to help but Atel could feel his dark eyes watching her every move. "We have classes for all age groups, from toddlers through adult. There is also a small area for babies - sometimes the parents have duties and leave the young ones here for the day."

She had found a toy, a toy that only Jedi children would use - to improve their skills at manipulation and control using the Force. The very idea was alarming. The Bendu were teaching children about the Force, not the Jedi but the Bendu. But she didn't want to say anything at the moment. It would be better to show Master Obi-Wan first and let him deal with Windu's reaction. Hiding it in the fastness of her cloak, she continued to explore the room.

Master Obi-Wan asked, "I can imagine what courses you teach the young ones. But what of the adults?"

As Windu moved towards the door, he said, "Perhaps you would like to see some of our other facilities?"

They followed him out into the hallway and started walking towards the far end. "Our school did not begin as such. When we first formed the Bendu group and it was discovered that many of us were former Jedi, we were approached by local groups for classes in self-defense. It had been a very difficult time for the Naboo people and the Trade Federation's invasion of this peaceful world acted as a wake-up call. The humans of this planet had no army and very few weapons." Windu shrugged. "The Gungans were better equipped but even they were devastated by the war. When the Neimodians were finally defeated, it was apparent that the Naboo people wanted to make sure that it would never happen again. Now the planet has shielding based on Gungan technology, a sensor net for policing spaceship movement and training in battle strategies and self-defense for most of its citizens. Depending on the skill level, we now teach unarmed self-defense, knife, vibroblade and sword fighting, quarterstaff combat and blaster use."

"You consider those skills defensive?" Her Master seemed concerned.

Windu's reply was almost sarcastic. "Most people don't have the Force as their guide. They must use what they can. Some techniques, especially blaster targeting, are relatively simple to learn. We do emphasize stun settings for living beings but droids rarely go down with anything less than lethal."

Master Obi-Wan pulled open another door, peering briefly into a meditation chamber before moving on. "And the children?"

"Most of our students are children of the Bendu. Here they receive a full range of educational classes. That does include defense tactics and political thought as well as philosophy, maths, science, economics, agriculture and languages."

The next several classrooms were nondescript, typical of those found throughout the galaxy. As they approached the end of the corridor, Atel noticed a small knot of indigo-clad teenagers were gathered by the exit, intently talking.

She pointed to the whispering group at the far end of the hall. "Shouldn't they be on leave as well?"

A momentary grimace and then Windu's face smoothed into a neutral mask. "A number of older students stayed behind to help with reconstruction of one of the buildings." Mace was clearly not happy to see them. "Do you wish to talk with them?"

"Yes, thank you." Master Obi-Wan nodded and quickly moved in their direction. The fivesome looked up at the movement, startled and began to whisper more rapidly. Then at the rapid approach of the Jedi, the teens fell silent, waiting.

As Windu approached, the tallest of the gaggle stepped forward and bowed slightly. "I'm sorry, Master Windu. We did not realize that there were guests present."

"That's all right, Denn. This is Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi and Padawan Sl'etah. I've just been showing them the Sanctuary." Windu's voice was tight, unnamed anxiety bleeding into the air.

The leader of the group straightened, staring at them, while his cohort's whispers cut into the silence. He looked at Atel intently, frowning upset as he recognized her.

"Atel? Atel, what are you doing here?" His harsh words were not welcoming.

Surprised, Atel had begun to smile warmly at the teen but faltered as she realized he was not happy to see her. "Denn Hanoth? I...I could ask you the same thing. Why aren't you on Melida/Dann? Last I heard, you were with the Agri-Corps, helping to rebuild their agricultural system."

That brought a huff of annoyance. "Yeah, I was there. Until the damn Order..." Master Windu made a hasty throat-clearing sound and it stopped the young man's outburst cold. "Sorry, Master Windu."

He turned to Atel, looking down for a moment and then apologizing, "Sorry, Padawan." Breathing deeply as if to calm his fraying nerves, he began again. "Last year, the Jedi Order saw fit to shut down the Agri-Corps program. Said it was costing them too much money to stay in business. Most of the crew returned to their homes. As Padawan Sl'etah knows, I have no family so I was left to my own devices."

"Oh, I didn't know." Atel moved to stand beside him, touching his sleeve in sympathy but he just backed away, shaking his head, his mouth flat with disdain.

Her Master was somber. "Denn, is it?" The young man nodded warily. "What do you mean, left to your own devices? Surely, they did not dismiss anyone under eighteen - the age of majority. That would be a violation of the Order's parental contracts."

"Jedi Kenobi, excuse me, but I don't know anything about that. All I know was that they called me in and told me to get out - that I was no longer needed and here was two weeks pay. Period. And for your information, at the time, I had just turned sixteen."

Atel's eyes grew wide as Obi-Wan asked gently, "How did you get here then?"

The young man shrugged. "Luckily, a Bendu champion was in the area. He heard about the dismissal somehow and was able to transport me and two others back to Naboo. We've been here ever since."

"It appears that the Force was with you."

A second annoyed huff was heard and echoed by the other teens in the hallway. His response was caustic. "Yeah, you could say that. All I know is that the Bendu have been wonderful through the whole thing. I've my own room, I get to go to classes at the school and I am doing useful work."

"So you would not want to go back to the Jedi Order?"

Denn snorted derisively at that. "Not on your life. What, and get tossed out next time they have problems with credits? No, thank you." He turned to Windu. "If you don't mind Master, I think that we should be getting back to work."

He nodded. "That's fine. Let me know if you need anything."

The young man moved into the center of his group, as if for support and they began to move away. Atel called after her old friend, "Denn, may the Force be with you."

But he said nothing, ignoring her and the teens disappeared through the corridor's end portal.

Master Obi-Wan turned to her. "How did you know Denn?"

Still looking at the door where the young man had exited, she said, "I used to tutor him in maths at the Temple. He was such a sweet kid, lively and strong in the Force. I was sure that he would be chosen as a Padawan Learner." She shrugged, dejectedly. "We were on a mission when he was sent to the Agri-Corps so I never got a chance to say good-bye." She looked at Obi-Wan and then down at the beautifully-tiled floor, her sight blurring for a moment. "I really wanted to."

Obi-Wan brushed her shoulder, squeezing gently. "Padawan, he seems happy here."

Mace tersely interrupted, "Yes now, but it was not always so." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "Denn wasn't entirely truthful. We didn't find him right away. In fact, it took about six months before we were even aware that the Agricultural Corps in that area had been shut down. When he was finally rescued, he was living on the streets, begging for food, stealing when necessary and doing other things that he is not particularly proud of in order to stay alive."

Windu's eyes were hard as stone. "Actually, Denn is lucky that we found him and brought him back here. We were not able to save them all."

"What do you mean?" Obi-Wan asked.

Atel wasn't sure she would like the answer.

"Knight Kenobi… Obi-Wan, the Sanctuary is not called that because it is a lovely word. We...all the Jedi forced to leave their home needed a refuge, a place from which we could defend our own."

Mace's voice hardened with animosity, staring fiercely at the two Jedi. "We discovered very early on that those who are dismissed from the Order were being hunted down and killed. Many died in the early days of the first round of dismissals, not realizing the danger in following a solitary path. Now we band together. But we cannot always get to them quickly enough, and sometimes they die. Even the children, Obi-Wan. That's what the Jedi Order has become."

Atel could feel his Master's pain. He must have been heart-sore, remembering that his friend, Bant, had been among the dead, and not a little unhappy with how things had turned out. She felt badly for the dismissed ones. Even though they might have deserved to be cast out for failure in their duties to the Order, they shouldn't have died for it. But the Jedi weren't to blame, not for the deaths.

Even so, Master Obi-Wan did not protest the accusation, only whispered, "I'm sorry."

Windu did not seem to be in the mood for apologies. His jaw clenched for just a moment as he stared at the Jedi; anger and resignation raced across his face and he looked as if he wanted to throttle the pair. But even he must have realized that he could do nothing against the Jedi; any action against her Master would just bring new trouble to the Bendu. The Hunter's Group were dire-wolf strong and less likely to be patient with the Bendu than her Master.

Finally, scowling, Windu looked at Obi-Wan. "Sorry... Kenobi? That is not enough. I want to know why the Order is doing nothing about these murders."

Obi-Wan shook his head slowly, the frown lines gouging his face. "I don't know. The deaths are not common knowledge at the Temple."

"But you knew about them." He asserted, pressing hard.

"I found out only yesterday."

"Ah." Windu's soft reply was followed by edgy silence.

Finally, when it was clear that Master Obi-Wan had nothing further to say on the matter, Windu shrugged, turning towards the exit. Walking in the quiet of unspoken animosity, they moved soundlessly through the connecting hallway into another building.

Windu pointed down the length of the corridor, not looking at his companions, his words clipped. "This building houses the gymnasium, cafeteria and power plant. The center for infant care is also in this wing. Did you wish to see anything here or should we just go to meet with Shmi?"

"I would like to see the exercise facilities, please." Obi-Wan's voice was subdued, low. Denn's revelations and the reality of all those deaths must have weighed heavily in his thoughts.

"Through here, then." Windu pushed a door open and swept his arm to indicate that the Jedi could enter.

Beyond the entrance was a large open area, floored in a golden wood, the sunlight streaming across and bathing the place in brilliant warmth. Scattered here and there were slight straight cuts in the flooring. One wall was lined with soft matting; the section near the door was filled with stacks of equipment for different training techniques. The opposite wall held ladders, oddly-placed railings and rings of all sizes. At the far end were the ever-present bleachers. Above, the large rings and bars could be lowered to any height but were currently securely tied to the rafters.

Windu stood by the door, waiting for the Jedi to make accusations. It did not take long.

Atel observed. "Very nice. Looks just like the Temple on Coruscant."

He bowed slightly. "Thank you. Sometimes, it is good to have familiar surroundings. It is comfortable."

"And I believe that the rings and railings in those configurations are exclusive to Force-users. Am I not correct?"

"Very good, Padawan." Windu said sarcastically. "Since there are a great many former Jedi at this facility, we thought it might be a good idea to have equipment that they could use. Keep up their skills, you know, just in case someone tries to murder them." She stepped back, chastised, glancing at her Master for support.

Master Obi-Wan interrupted, "Mace, I know that this is difficult for all of us." He swept his hand outward. "Is this where the defense classes are taught?"

"Usually not. As I said earlier, there are rooms in the front building that are set up for the defense classes for non-Bendu. However, we do have demonstrations occasionally for the local community."

"And do these demonstrations include lightsaber fights?" Obi-Wan was staring hard at the Bendu champion.

Windu's face was grim. "Of course not, Knight Kenobi. Owning a lightsaber is forbidden to non-Jedi, as you well know. I believe that the Senate passed a regulation last year about it."

"Yes, I am sure that they did. Could you please explain the gouges in the floor then? They seem to be recent."

"We use vibrostaffs. That might cause them."

"They appear to be singed around the edges. I ask again. Are you using lightsabers?"

"No, we are not." Windu's voice was cold, sharp. "Look, Knight Kenobi. We are well-aware of the regulations. We do use double-bladed staffs with the tips based on a similar technology to lightsabers." He looked directly at her Master. "We were very careful to read the law in detail. We are not violating any mandate." He folded his arms, back stiff, legs straight, obviously prepared for an argument.

She knew Master Obi-Wan could be just as stubborn. He didn't fail in her expectations. "I want to see one. Now."

Windu sighed in disgust and strode over to a small cabinet near the entrance. Reaching inside, the Bendu brought out a longish tube and tossed it to her Master.

The cylinder's shape was vaguely similar to a lightsaber, thick enough to be easily held but stretched to accommodate two hands. However, its indigo-blue handle, beautifully carved with gold and silver trim, the dark blue grips and various attachments made it obvious that this was not a Jedi's weapon.

Obi-Wan carefully flipped on the switch and two glowing lines of turquoise light extended, the familiar saber hum filling the air. The balance of the staff looked perfect.

He twirled the blades; he must have seen just as she could see both the superior defense tactics used with such a weapon and also its weakness. It could cut both ways. Only an extremely skilled Force-user would be able to utilize this staff without serious injury. He shut off the weapon and tossed it back to the Bendu.

"You appear to be correct, Master Windu. It is not a lightsaber." He bowed slightly, his face stony.

Atel began to step forward, intent on objecting to her Master's statements but Obi-Wan sent her a forbidding glance, and chastened, she was silent.

"I would like to see Shmi Skywalker now, if you would be so kind. I believe that we have kept her waiting long enough."


	20. Chapter 12: The Force moves part 1

**Chapter 12: ****The Force moves in mysterious ways**

**Part 1**

The west garden was tucked into a corner near the gymnasium, hidden from prying eyes. Meadow flowers, in riotous hues, grew in abundance. Glowing in vibrant tones of amethyst, topaz and ruby, the blossoms flowed tumultuously over the small stone path that meandered through the space; a soft afternoon breeze teased them into a gentle dance amongst the greenery. In the center of all this beauty, a wide granite bench held a single individual.

Seated there, eyes closed and head tilted to catch the last of the afternoon's golden sunlight, was an older woman. In her mid-fifties, she had once been lovely. Now framed in dark-brown hair that was liberally streaked with grey, her face seemed tired and careworn. Dressed in turquoise tunic and indigo leggings, a shawl of blue draped over her slight shoulders, she waited silently among the scented blossoms.

Obi-Wan looked at her for a moment, thinking of what he must ask her, hoping for some answers to unsettling questions. As he began to move forward however, Mace abruptly stepped in front of him, stubbornly blocking his way. "I have something to say before I introduce you, Kenobi." Obi-Wan shifted back, bowing his head, silently signaling the Bendu to continue.

"I know why you are here." Bending down slightly to catch the Knight's startled eyes with his own, Mace's deep voice was harsh, caustic. "I _know_ what or rather whom you want. I do not approve but I have cooperated because I must."

Rising up, back now ramrod straight, Mace crossed his arms and glared at the Jedi. "Qui-Gon is his own man and makes his own decisions. I can do nothing about his actions or how they are perceived by others." He paused, his mouth flat with defiance. "However, Shmi Skywalker is under Bendu protection. You are not to harass her. Ask her what you must but I will stop any questioning that I feel is unwarranted. Do you understand?"

Obi-Wan began to protest. "Master Windu, I am here for answers."

Each word was distinctly spoken. "Do...you...understand?"

"I hope you realize that this could be construed as interference with the duty of a Republic representative." Mace just stood there, silent and Obi-Wan huffed in annoyance. "Very well. I will keep the questions appropriate to my investigation. Will that satisfy you?"

The Bendu nodded stiffly to the Jedi and then strode forward. "Shmi...," She opened her eyes and stood, smiling as Mace came close. "I would like to introduce two visitors to our Sanctuary. This is Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight and his Padawan Learner, Atel Sl'etah." Her smile faltered as she turned toward them, looking slightly apprehensive.

"They are here from Coruscant, representing the Senate and the Republic, under the auspices of Jedi Order. They would like to ask you a few questions." Her eyes flickered towards Mace for an instant as though seeking support. He continued gently, "Please answer all their concerns with the truth, as I am sure you would. I will be nearby if you need me." Mace moved to the edge of the small garden and stood there, arms crossed, staring resolutely at the two Jedi.

Obi-Wan turned back to the dark-haired woman. "Please sit, Mistress Skywalker."

With Atel at his right shoulder, he sat down next to Shmi. For a moment, no one spoke and then hoping to relieve her unmistakable anxiety a bit, he said softly, "I met an Anakin Skywalker the other day. Do you know him?"

Shmi smiled tentatively at that but her eyes were sparkling with pride. "Yes, Anakin is my son. He is currently apprenticed to Master Jinn."

Acknowledging her words, Obi-Wan replied, "Yes, it seems to be working out well for them both." He paused for a moment. "You are from Tatooine, I believe."

The reply was more guarded. "Yes, I wasn't born on Tatooine although Ani was but we lived there for quite a few years."

"And you moved to Naboo about eight years ago. That must have been quite a change." As she nodded once, he continued, "Did Master Jinn bring you here from Tatooine?"

Her answer only a whisper. "Yes."

Obi-Wan asked gently, "Any reason for leaving your home of many years?"

The woman drew back. "I was glad to leave. I missed Anakin and the prospect of living free was...welcome."

"Free? Weren't you free, Mistress Skywalker?"

The question came out sharper than he had intended and her vulnerable eyes widened in concern. She hesitated again, seemingly unsure of what he wanted or else uncertain about what she should say. "I...no, Jedi Kenobi, I was not free." He waited patiently, silently for her to continue. "I was a slave."

He nodded slowly, understanding her plight. "That must have been difficult for you."

She breathed softly, her reply almost unheard. "You have no idea."

"Was Anakin a slave as well?"

She looked down at her lap, her hands tightly clasped together, whitened knuckles betraying her apprehension. "Yes, Jedi Kenobi. He was."

"Did Master Jinn bring you both back?" Obi-Wan began pressing the point; he needed answers and she knew something. He could feel it, sense it through the Force.

"Yes...yes, he did."

"How did he do that? Did he purchase you?" She glanced up, seemingly frightened, and quickly shook her head.

"How did you get here, then? You know that it is illegal to own slaves in the Republic." Shmi's anxious eyes grew wide and they flicked once to Mace and back again to Kenobi. "If Qui-Gon Jinn bought you and transported you here, he would have committed a crime, a serious crime with severe penalties."

Obi-Wan leaned in close, whispering as softly as though he were sharing a secret. "If Master Jinn owns you now, we would arrest him and set you free." Her eyes grew huge in the afternoon light, then began to shake her head as the implications of his words sunk in. Voice husky and low, he continued. "Are you still a slave? Is Anakin?"

Shmi Skywalker drew back, frowning, obviously bewildered as she searched his face. "No, no, you misunderstand. I am free and so is Ani." Her sudden movement loosened the shawl, pooling it around her waist. Her fingers scrabbled about, grasping the edge of the fabric and pulling it tightly about her as if suddenly cold. "Qui-Gon Jinn is a wonderful man. How could you even think such things about him? He rescued us both from that awful place."

"How then did he do that? It is illegal to buy slaves if you are a Republic citizen, even while outside the Republic."

She hesitated at that, looking as if she were trying to think it through. "Even if it is to set them free?"

"Yes, even then." Deep shame briefly flickered across Obi-Wan's face. "The Republic's laws are quite specific on this issue."

Her mouth flattened in anger but her eyes were filled with sorrow. "How then can you rescue living beings from their bondage?"

"I don't know but buying sentients is strictly forbidden. I'm sorry." It was softy spoken, his regret evident.

Shmi sat up, staring at him, her wrap tightening as she folded her arms, the barrier between them obvious. Her words were harsh but sincerely spoken. "And so instead slaves continue to live in degradation and pain, fearing for their very lives. All because the Republic cannot be bothered to help those who are powerless. This is not right or just."

Obi-Wan looked away, contrite. "No, but it is the law."

"Then that foolish law needs to be changed."

Glancing back at her, he nodded thoughtfully. "I agree." He drew in a long, deep breath, and returned to his questioning. "Mistress Skywalker, you still haven't told me how Jinn rescued you."

She breathed out the long sound of resignation, conceding his point. "Anakin's freedom came first." She smiled briefly, apparently warmed by the memory. "When Master Qui-Gon and Queen Amidala landed on Tatooine almost ten years ago, they needed to repair their ship. As part of a desperate gamble, they bet our owner, Wattoo, that Ani would win the Boonta Eve podrace. If he did, they would get the parts they needed and my Master would get the remainder of the winner's purse. If the race was lost, the Queen's ship would be his. So you see, either way that Toydarian would win."

She shrugged as though the outcome had been obvious. "Of course, he agreed. What we didn't know at the time was that Master Jinn had also bet the podracer against Ani's freedom. Luck was with us all that day. When the race was over, Queen Amidala had a repaired ship and my Ani was free." Her smile was sweet remembrance. "He left with Master Jinn to start a new life."

Obi-Wan recognized that there was more to the tale. "My lady, I am confused. Naboo was in the midst of an invasion at that time. You let your son go with a stranger into a war zone?"

Her denial was sharp. "No, no...Master Jinn took my Ani with him to Coruscant. The Queen was on her way to the Senate to plead for aid and Master Qui-Gon was part of her security team. He had hoped that the Jedi Order would take Anakin in. My son is strong in the Force...Master Jinn says very strong and he had thought that the Jedi would be happy to receive such a candidate for instruction." She hesitated, carefully watching him as she continued, "Of course, then he still believed in the Order, still... still thought there was hope at the Temple."

"What happened?" Obi-Wan could guess at the outcome but he needed to hear it for himself.

"The Jedi Council wouldn't see him. They...they wouldn't even let him inside the Temple at all, met him on the front steps with armed guards and told him never to return. He tried to reason with them, to tell them of Anakin's Force presence, but they would not listen, merely turned away, and closed the doors in Master Jinn's face."

"Ah." Regret, remorse, and underneath it all was anger that they would do such a thing to his old Master. He could envision the Order's response far too well.

She glanced at him, obviously concerned that perhaps she had said too much, revealed too much of Master Qui-Gon's past. "Ani told me about it. Master Jinn never said a word."

"No, he wouldn't."

Obi-Wan's bitter response must have puzzled her. "Did you know him...before? At the Temple?"

Glancing away, he stared unseeing out over the garden, its colors now dulled in the lengthening shadows of late afternoon. Finally he nodded. "Yes, I knew him very well. I was his Padawan, his apprentice, for many years."

"But you are investigating him." One word said all that needed to be said. "Oh."

He was still, unmoving for so long a time that Shmi must have begun to wonder if the interview was over. Her story of Qui-Gon's attempts to help her son only pointed out how far down the dark path the Order has gone. The taste of it was bitter ash.

Obi-Wan shook himself free of the painful memories and turned back toward the older woman.

"And you remained behind on Tatooine." She shrugged again. "How then were you set free?"

"A year and a half later, Master Jinn came back. My Master had had quite a bit of bad luck and was deeply in debt. Gambling had finally overcome his good sense and he had lost almost everything. Master Qui-Gon told Wattoo that he would buy the store on one condition - that any slaves he owned were to be emancipated before the sale was completed. The Toydarian didn't want to do it, protested vehemently, but in the end, he had little choice. I and one other were released. Master Jinn now owns the business." She chuckled lightly. "Wattoo is still there, running the shop. Quite a step down, don't you think?"

He nodded. "And very cleverly done, too. Slaves were freed before any money changed hands." His eyes lit in pleasure for a moment, immense satisfaction in his voice. "The law avoided and justice served. Well played, Master."

His apprentice shifted slightly beside him although she said nothing. It was not a Padawan's place to chastise her Master in public. But her stiff silence spoke volumes about Atel's disapproval of the ingenious underhanded way that Master Jinn had avoided the rulings of law. Obi-Wan could only admire his former Master's deft touch. Apparently, she did not.

Obi-Wan turned back towards Shmi. "And what about the other slaves he has been bringing back to Naboo?"

Shmi Skywalker looked abruptly afraid, the bones in both hands standing out sharply as she grasped the shawl ever closer; the fabric threatened to tear with the strength of her unease. Glancing imploringly at Windu for an instant, she lowered her gaze to the gravel path before her. Her voice was thready and hesitant as she replied, "Knight Kenobi, I don't know what you mean."

"I believe that you do." He looked at her, hard. "Jinn has been transporting slaves here from Tatooine and Ryloth. Why?"

"Are you sure?" It was clear that she was hiding something or protecting someone; the quavering voice and skittish movement of her hands gave Shmi away.

"Mistress Skywalker, Jinn has brought over two hundred 'passengers' to Naboo in the last several years. They disappear after reaching the spaceport. Of course they are slaves."

"You could be...mistaken." Her reluctant response was just above a whisper.

"No." His retort was blunt, clear-cut. "He's transporting slaves and you know something about it. What is he doing with them?"

"I don't know what you want me to say." Shmi moved restlessly, keeping her head down while she glanced surreptitiously at him. Her expressive fingers, busy with anxiety, began to shred the fine threads of her azure shawl.

He leaned forward, intent on getting some answers. His flat voice insisted, "The truth, I want the truth. Is he running a slavery ring? Is he selling them off-world or to a broker?"

Obviously, this was not what she had expected him to say. Her startled eyes shot up to meet his, bleak astonishment in her bewildered face. "You...think…."

"You realize, of course, that if he is running a slaver ring and you know something, you would be considered just as guilty if you didn't turn him in."

"How could you think such a thing?" Her voice frosted, contempt bleeding into the air.

"I have evidence that he is funneling slaves through Naboo. Is he selling them?"

Shmi stood up abruptly, shaking with indignation. "You have no idea what Qui-Gon is doing." The soft demeanor had turned glacially cold and fiercely protective. "He is a compassionate man. You knew him for years and you could think this of him?" She scowled at him, her face carved in ice. "What do they teach you at that Temple of yours?"

Obi-Wan rose also, moving in closer. "If he's not selling them, what is he doing with the slaves?" He pressed forward, his eyes boring into hers, the slightest touch of Force persuasion in his desperate voice. He must know the truth, for all their sakes. "Tell me."

"I..." She stepped back, shaking her head.

So intent was he on getting to the bottom of this mystery that he did not notice Mace's indignant approach nor did he note Atel's tenacious tug on his ragged sleeve. Then abruptly, Windu was there between them, his dark eyes flashing, hands clenched by his side. "That's enough, Kenobi."

Obi-Wan shook his head in frustration as he stared at the Bendu. "No, I need answers. I will have them."

"Not from her." Mace gazed at the woman standing there so still, her cloth mantle slowly shredding under her frantic grip, her eyes wide with anxiety. Gentling his voice, he smiled reassuringly at her. "Thank you, Shmi. Why don't you go back to your duties? I will take care of this."

Obi-Wan began to protest but he could see that Mace was adamant, his resolve set in duracrete. He would get no further here. "Very well, then. I'm sure that you will be able to give me the answers I seek." He turned to her and bowed slightly. "Mistress Skywalker, please accept my apologies for any inconvenience or distress I may have caused. You have been most cooperative and given me much to think on. I thank you."

Mace squeezed Shmi's shoulder in silent understanding, then watched her go as she scurried away. The scorching glare that Obi-Wan received could have melted Hoth but then the Bendu turned and stalked quickly away, muttering, "Follow me." His path, arrow-straight through the gardens and wide grassy spaces, led toward the front building.

Obi-Wan called after him, "I will find the truth."

Windu stopped at that, folding his arms and huffing in annoyance, his demeanor stiff, dark eyes glittering. When they reached him, he replied, "Really, Kenobi? By browbeating some poor woman?" He scowled for a moment, then made a visible effort to restrain his vexation. Finally with a deep sigh, he said, "I will answer any questions that I can. Why don't we go to my office and continue this discussion there?"

"I have a better idea. Why don't we go to Qui-Gon Jinn's office?" Mace sent Obi-Wan an indignant look and reluctantly nodded.

"If you insist."

The rest of the time was spent in uneasy silence.


	21. Chapter 12: The Force moves part 2

**Chapter 12: ****The Force moves in mysterious ways**

**Part 2**

The room that Mace indicated as Jinn's office was surprisingly small, especially for one of Qui-Gon's stature. Just large enough for a desk with chair, dataport, another seat for guests, a minuscule table, and a couple of storage cabinets - to Obi-Wan, it seemed almost claustrophobic, especially with three people jammed into the tiny space.

Its one saving grace was the exceptionally large window that looked out over the interior gardens but even the view was partially obscured by several plants clustered on one side of the windowsill. The walls were covered with maps, memorabilia collected from past travels and drawings. The artistic works appeared to be done by a very young craftsman but were lovingly posted opposite the desk, easily viewed by the occupant.

Obi-Wan was incredulous. "This is his office?"

Windu chuckled lightly at that. "I told you we would be better off going elsewhere. Besides, he rarely uses this space other than for storage."

"I would have thought..."

Mace shrugged. "Qui-Gon said that the larger spaces should go to others more in need of it. You know how he is. Besides, he seems to like it well enough."

Shaking his head, Obi-Wan sat down at the desk, indicating that Mace should occupy the other seat. Atel, with a nod to her Master, began to look through the cabinets. Kenobi reached out past several rock samples to the silvered visual cube next to the dataport.

As he touched it lightly, every few seconds it cycled through a display of tiny 3-D images of the people most important in Qui-Gon's life - Le'orath, Ben and Anakin but, surprisingly, there were others as well including Qui-Gon's first Padawan and several of Obi-Wan himself. His mouth went dry as the images flowed by, bringing up treasured memories of days long ago.

_Damn._ Obi-Wan moved quickly, pressing the cube again, shutting it off. He needed no more reminders of what he was doing here; the bitter taste of his own treachery seemed ever-present now. Mace watched him, a slight look of smug satisfaction in his dark eyes.

Annoyed that the former Jedi Master had seen his discomfort, Obi-Wan busied himself, pushing data crystals into the computer's port, and began to download its memory for later perusal. Satisfied that the information was flowing smoothly, he turned to the Bendu.

"You said that you would answer my questions."

"Ask what you wish. I will try and respond as best I can."

"Good." Obi-Wan paused, "What can you tell me about Master Jinn's visits to Telos?"

"Telos? He hasn't been there in years." Taken aback, the look on Mace's face was one of bewilderment and surprise. "I would have thought that you'd…." He stopped and looked hard at Kenobi. "Telos? As far as I know, the last time he visited that planet was with you over twenty years ago. Why do you ask about that?"

"I have reason to believe that he has been to the Telosian system several times in the last year."

"That's odd. Are you sure?" Windu frowned, thinking intently. "It takes a minimum of seven days travel in hyperspace to get there and back and I don't remember Qui-Gon being away from Naboo for that long this past year. It is quite a distance from here, across the galaxy if I remember correctly, and we have been busy enough with this part of space. Why do you think he went there?"

"I have records that indicate he was in negotiations with the mining consortium. With Offworld."

Mace did something quite unexpected. He gave a great bark of laughter. "Really, Kenobi. That is ridiculous. You, of all people, should know how he feels about Offworld. He's sooner cut his own throat than have any dealings with that group of gangsters." His dark eyes grew speculative. "I suggest that you check your sources. It is just not possible."

"I have the Telosian and Naboo flight records and his tax returns which list Offworld as one of Jinn's holdings."

"Well, I think that you need to examine them again. I am positive that Qui-Gon would have nothing to do with a consortium known for its double-dealing and criminal methods."

"I plan on doing just that once I return to Coruscant. However, my information seems quite complete."

"May I see these records?"

From the corner of the room, the rustling of flimsiplast ceased as Atel looked up and waited for her Master's reply. They both knew that the data was confidential and not to be shared with potential criminals; the Jedi Council would not appreciate any breach of protocol, especially in this matter.

Suddenly white, her face apprehensive, she caught Obi-Wan's eyes and gave a slight shake of her head. //_Please don't, Master_.// She pleaded frantically//_It's against the Codes of Behavior. You know this_.//

Atel relaxed slightly as he stared back at her and nodded slowly. //_Yes, Padawan, I do know_.//

Then, he brought out his datapad and began scanning through several screens. Finally able to access the flight information, he handed the glowing pad over to Mace. "These are the take-off and return dates for Jinn's flights to Telos in the past year."

Atel's growl of frustration could be easily heard. //_Master, what are you doing?_//

His reply through the Force was simple and straightforward. //_What I must, Padawan_.// Aloud, he inquired mildly, "Have you found anything of interest, Atel?"

She shook her head sharply, apparently incensed, but her voice revealed nothing of her inner turmoil. "No, Master, not yet."

"Keep looking."

Her nod was jerky, her eyes glistening with annoyance. Atel turned back toward her investigation, and if the sounds coming from the search of the cabinets and clutter on the table were louder than before, Obi-Wan chose to ignore them.

Windu must have felt the Force flutters of mind-speech between the pair but he remained silent through this exchange. It was obvious to any with Force sensitivity that Atel and Obi-Wan were 'discussing' things but it was none of his business. Instead, the Bendu turned back towards the datapad, closely perusing the information.

Mace frowned suddenly. "Obi-Wan, I cannot tell you where he was for all of these but this first so-called trip occurred during Ben's birthday celebration. Half the town was there and so was Qui-Gon. It was quite a party, as I remember." He snickered briefly at that. "I'm sure that there are several sources that you could access that would account for Qui-Gon's whereabouts during the festivities. Or ask the Governor or any of his staff. They were all there with their children."

The Bendu scrutinized the information further. "The third set of dates, he and I were on Melida/Daan on business...the Naboo flight records will show that we returned in the middle of this 'trip' to Telos. If you wish, you can access the records here."

"Thank you but we already have the flight logs. I will cross-check the dates when I have some time this evening."

"I cannot tell you about the other dates at the moment. I don't keep track of Qui-Gon every minute. That's really up to Le'orath." He chuckled at his own poor attempt at humor but they just stared at him. "I do know that such a large time spent in transit should have been noticed by the staff since Jinn comes to the Sanctuary on a regular basis to teach. Do you want me to inquire further?"

"Not at the moment. As I said, I will check the dates between the two sets of flight information and see if there are any other anomalies."

Windu shrugged. "Fine by me. And why are you so interested in Qui-Gon and Telos? It has to be more than just buying mines from Offworld."

Atel crouched by the cabinet, rummaging through the files, flimsiplast sheets piled on the floor, and pointedly ignored her Master's response.

But Obi-Wan had no intention of telling Windu about the Force manipulation or the murders in any case. "I'm sorry but that is confidential."

The Bendu merely sat there; it was as if he were waiting for the next strike. It wasn't long in coming.

"Perhaps you might clear up another mystery for me then, Master Windu." Silent, his brown eyes flickering back and forth between the two Jedi, Mace nodded regally. "Qui-Gon Jinn has been to Tatooine and Ryloth on a number of occasions. Whenever he returns, he has a shipful of passengers."

"So, is that illegal in the Republic, to transport beings from one planet to another?" The deep voice of the Bendu was playful, the barest flicker of buried deceit coloring his words and the Force before Mace's shields became impenetrable. Obi-Wan's eyes sharpened, trying to discern just what was going on.

"They disappear upon entering Naboo territory. That is very odd, is it not?"

Mace held up his hands, spreading them wide in a gesture of impatience. "Is that Qui-Gon's fault? So they disappear. Perhaps they are tourists out for a little fun and do not wish to be disturbed."

"They never leave this planet, at least under their own name."

The Bendu shrugged, seemingly indifferent. "That is not my concern."

"It should be." Obi-Wan's face hardened, voice dagger sharp. "I ask you again. Who are the passengers that come from Tatooine and Ryloth? Those places are rife with slavery and drugs. "

"I cannot say. Qui-Gon will have the answers you seek. Ask him when you see him next."

"But I am here and I am asking you." Obi-Wan waited a few tense moments, probing the Force for some clue as to Windu's level of subterfuge. Then when nothing was forthcoming, he began to think aloud, "There are only three likely possibilities for disappearing passengers from slave-holding planets. One - they are indeed tourists bent on having a good time. This is highly unlikely. Too many have disappeared."

Windu's face was stony, blank, no emotion or thought seeping through the stoic visage.

Obi-Wan paused dramatically. "Two, Qui-Gon Jinn is running a slavery ring. A few people have indicated that this is indeed the case and there is much to be said for such a scenario." Obi-Wan paused in distaste, watching Mace's eyes begin to glitter with disgust. "Slavery, while illegal in the Republic, is highly lucrative. There are few expenses, and if the security forces can be persuaded to ignore the trade, the slaver is not likely to be caught. In addition, Naboo is ideally situated since it is close to the center of the slave markets."

He leaned forward, his hands splayed across the inlaid desk. "Again, it is highly unlikely." Atel's movements stilled, as she listened to her Master. "I cannot believe for a moment that Qui-Gon Jinn would ever deal in slaves. It is not in his character."

His Padawan started to protest but he sent her a penetrating look, quelling any protest. "Mace, you and I have known him for many years. To profit by the suffering of others? No, not possible. He was always one to rescue a lost soul, not cause it to cringe in fear."

He shook his head. "Besides, I cannot believe that a people so adamant about the abolition of slavery would allow anyone, even a hero of Naboo, to run a slavery ring right under the noses of the security forces. No, the third possibility is the only likely one."

Windu sat there, mouth flat, eyes hard, and did not ask for clarification. That was enough to confirm Obi-Wan's conclusion. "Three, Qui-Gon Jinn is helping runaway slaves to escape into the Republic, hiding them here at the Sanctuary until they can be safely transported deeper into the Core regions - giving them new identities, perhaps training them to deal with their situations and allowing them to hope for a better life."

A moment later, Mace said, "Obi-Wan, you are jumping to conclusions again. You know that it is illegal to help runaway slaves and the punishment is quite severe - two years in a penal colony for each offense. The Republic passed laws several years ago on this very issue."

He looked straight at Obi-Wan, his brown eyes stark in censure. "They have Senate-approved bounty hunters to capture those fleeing bondage - and to arrest anyone helping them."

"I know that Qui-Gon Jinn would not let slaves suffer in silence if he could do anything to help." Obi-Wan leaned forward. "I remember him trying desperately to free slaves legally on several occasions. The Jedi Order was honor-bound to follow the dictates of the Senate."

Obi-Wan blew out an annoyed sound of disbelief. "And they refused to help. Instead, the first Slave Act was passed, making it almost impossible to free the enslaved ones outside the Republic. Politics and profit again... I remember Qui-Gon railed for weeks about it until finally the Council made it quite clear that he was to do nothing. Or else." He spread his hands wide. "He agreed out of a sense of duty but it always hurt him immeasurably whenever he could not legally help those in need."

He drew closer to Mace, capturing his eyes, holding them hostage. "The Qui-Gon Jinn I knew would be funneling runaway slaves to freedom, not selling them for a profit. And I cannot believe that my old Master could have changed that much."

Windu looked away, clearing his throat. He said nothing for several moments. "Many things have happened over the years. People change..."

Obi-Wan shook his head and said clearly, distinctly, "Not that much."

Mace drew back and dismissed his conjectures with a wave of his hand. "Your evidence is strictly circumstantial. You will need more proof than speculation to net a slaver or even someone helping runaways."

"And what about your part in all this?"

"My part?" The Bendu was startled, apprehensive.

"Yes, you have traveled with Jinn on a number of occasions to Tatooine and Ryloth. What were you doing there?"

Mace snickered at that. "Selling ice." Obi-Wan looked at him with disbelief.

"I make a huge profit just by distributing clean frozen water to the Tatooine businesses - it's compact and cold, perfect for selling in a hot, dry desert. And Ryloth...well Ryloth has trouble raising crops; here we have an excess. Again an enormous profit item." He shrugged. "Sometimes, my ship comes back full of gems and craft items. Naboo has a long artistic tradition and welcomes new ideas."

Pausing, the Bendu raised his hand to forestall any further inquiries about slaves. "And yes, sometimes I also carry passengers. I ask no questions about their private lives and they tell me nothing as well. As long as they are disease free, Naboo welcomes tourists and potential settlers. If they disappear when they leave my ship, it's not my concern."

"But…."

"It's not my affair and I don't believe you could prove otherwise." With that, Mace leaned back, his long legs stretched out and folded his arms, waiting silently. It was clear that this topic was closed.

Obi-Wan was not pleased with this turn of events but Windu was correct. He didn't have absolute proof, and unless he could muster the data necessary or get a confession of guilt, there was little he could do.

He turned back towards the desk, gathering up and securing the now-filled data crystals in his beltpouch and then began to rummage through the drawers, hoping to find evidence of Qui-Gon's activities.

Atel had finished her search. Obi-Wan could see that she had discovered nothing of interest here but she was leaning back on the edge of the table, watched the Bendu as he sat there smugly serene.

She reached into the fastness of her threadbare cloak and pulled out a round silvered ball. Smiling, she placed it before Mace and asked, "Master Windu, perhaps you could tell me what this is."

The Bendu straightened and reached for the globe, looking at Obi-Wan for permission. When the nod came, Mace grasped it and began tossing the ball from hand to hand. "Why, Padawan, you know perfectly well what it is. A children's toy. What of it?"

"It's a mental maze," said Atel. Windu's brown eyes gleamed with amusement as he acknowledged her words. She continued, "A toy, useful only to Force users. A training tool for manipulation and control."

"And your point is..." One dark eyebrow came up in a gesture of glib inquiry as the former Jedi tossed the ball skyward and caught it when gravity took over.

"Why are you training Force-sensitive children? They should have been sent to the Temple."

"And why would I want to do that?" Mace seemed to be enjoying this far too much.

"For proper guidance in the use of the Force. Why else?" Her response was flat, indignant.

He chuckled at that. "My dear Padawan Sl'etah, you forget that we have the finest teachers here, not on Coruscant. The Jedi Order has seen fit to discard their best and brightest - educators, philosophers, pilots, farmers and rebels. We give them a new home and a new purpose. I'm sorry that you do not see that."

"And the children?" She was frowning deeply.

The silvered globe stilled in his hand. "We will raise them as we see fit. They are the children of the Bendu, our own young ones. They do not belong to the Jedi nor will they."

"Your children?" She seemed quite surprised.

"Of course. I mentioned that very fact earlier if you remember - when we were talking about the school. Why, do you think Qui-Gon was the only one to get married and raise a family?" His eyes twinkled with suppressed mirth. "We are not the Jedi Order. There is no forbidden attachment here. Adi and I have two daughters, strong in the Force; many other former Jedi have children as well."

"And you think that the Order will stand for this?"

"They can do nothing about it. There is no law at present compelling parents of Force-sensitive children to send them to the Jedi. And if they passed such an absurd law, they would have a very large fight on their hands. No parent would stand for it, Bendu or not." Mace was staring straight at Obi-Wan when he finished speaking, his brown eyes challenging his own grey ones to disagree.

But Obi-Wan said nothing. He knew that Windu was right.

"But you are teaching them how to use the Force," protested Atel, her eyes hard with disbelief.

"Of course." Windu said smoothly. "We need to guide them on the correct path. Teaching our children to use their talents wisely and well is paramount to their following the ways of the Light."

He leaned forward, looking at her with challenge in his gaze. "Surely you are not suggesting that we let our young ones flounder about and try to use their Force gifts without proper training, do you?" As she frowned, he relaxed back into his chair. "That would not be wise. That avenue could lead to Darkness."

"The Jedi should be training them, not you." Her flat condemnation of his words was absolute.

Windu spoke with patience, his hands still cupping the reflective ball as though protecting a priceless treasure. "Padawan Sl'etah, the Jedi do not own the Force. They cannot keep it locked away in a box or given away as a bribe to those deemed worthy by the Order. It is not something to be manipulated or controlled by the Jedi or by any other group...even our own."

His brown eyes held her own ones and she could not look away. "You have your mandates, your weaponry and your rules within the Order. We do not dispute this nor do the Bendu wish to challenge the Jedi's place in the Republic." Mace paused, shaking his head. "But the Force goes far beyond the Temple, beyond the Republic, certainly beyond Naboo. We will not cripple our own for your peace of mind."

Windu rose smoothly to his feet. "Now, Knight Kenobi and Padawan Sl'etah, if there is nothing else, I have other duties that need my attention."

Obi-Wan motioned for him to be seated once more. "I have not quite finished my examination of Qui-Gon's office. It will be but a few moments and then we will take no more of your time, Master Windu."

With a slight growl of annoyance, Mace dropped back down onto the chair and closed his eyes, still holding the toy. It would seem that he wanted them finished and gone, only sat there waiting for their departure.

While Windu waited, Obi-Wan hunted for clues. He wasn't sure what he was looking for but there was something here, something important. His hand wavered over the desk, and he felt a nudge, a slight push to kneel down, and reach up under the desk. Atel stood by, her small frame quivering in anticipation.

Mace opened his eyes and leaned over. "What are you looking for?" He sounded apprehensive, almost as if he knew Qui-Gon had done something foolish but was unwilling to say what it was.

It did not take long to find out. With a startled sound, Obi-Wan pulled out first one lightsaber and then a second and a third from the hidden compartment below the desk. Each was unique, but clearly a mixture of Jedi and Bendu design - the crafted weaponry sat there gleaming, the sleek dark-blue and silver trim an eloquent and obvious condemnation of Qui-Gon Jinn.

Obi-Wan leaned forward, both hands on the desk, his eyes boring down on an astonished Mace. Lowering his voice to emphasize the gravity of the situation, he asked distinctly, "What are these doing here, Master Windu?"

The former Jedi Master, Mace Windu, whispered, "I have no idea." His eyes never left the three sabers sitting there in the darkening room. One dark hand started to reach for the silver tubes but halted midway, instead falling to the desk edge and gripping tightly.

Atel was breathless, "Master, these are just the evidence..."

But Obi-Wan silenced her with a razored glance. Mace locked his gaze with him, the Bendu's regret and deep sorrow whispering through the Force before his shields set into duracrete once more. It was clear that Windu had not known about the lightsabers in Jinn's office.

There was nothing more to be said. Obi-Wan gathered the sabers, dumping them into his Padawan's eager hands, and leaning over, gently pried the now-forgotten silvered toy from Windu's lax grip.

Bowing to the Bendu Champion and moving past him, Obi-Wan opened the door. Atel was first into the hallway, starting to walk quickly towards the exit as if afraid Windu would snatch the evidence from her zealous fingertips.

Obi-Wan started to follow her but was held back by strong hands gripping his threadbare cloak. "Don't do this to him," Mace pleaded quietly. "Obi-Wan, please. He is a foolish old man who has made a new life, a better life for himself. Don't take that away."

His heavy regret ghosted in the air, quiet, desperate. "What would you have me do, Mace? I cannot ignore this, I cannot ignore all of the evidence that tells me that more is going on here than a fine teaching school or that it is a harbor for runaways." His eyes were liquid with sorrow. "I cannot wish away the sabers, either."

He looked down at the marbled floor, whispering. "Tell me a way to explain this to the Council and I will." He reached for Mace's hand, fisted in the Jedi's ragged cloak and covered it with his own. "Tell me that I am wrong, that all of it is wrong." Squeezing tightly for a moment, he let his hand fall uselessly by his side. "I don't want to do this any more than you. Tell me that I am wrong."

Mace stepped back, releasing the fraying cloth, and said nothing. After a long moment, Obi-Wan nodded and turned to go.

"Obi-Wan, what will you do now?"

He should have ignored the question but he could not. "Code dictates that I contact the Jedi Council and apprise them of the situation. They will decide what is required. It is unlikely that they will overlook the evidence I have and you know what the consequences are." Mace nodded unhappily.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and decided to do something exceptionally foolish, something that could get him punished or worse. But it didn't matter. Qui-Gon's life was at stake here. "Mace, I will be contacting the Council tonight but I won't be doing anything else before morning."

Mace blinked in surprise, sharply studying him, obviously understanding the meaning behind his words, and deciding to meet trust for trust. "He won't run, Obi-Wan. You know how stubborn he can be. Once he has decided on a course of action, an exploding nova couldn't divert him."

Obi-Wan looked away, nodding once in agreement. Despair colored his soft reply. "I know. I'm truly sorry."

Mace's voice rasped with unshed sorrow. "So am I."

Obi-Wan turned to go but hesitated. He looked down, unable to meet the somber face gazing back at him. "One more thing. I know that it is not possible now but I would still like to know."

Mace waited patiently. "Yes?"

"Do you...have you accepted Knights that leave the Jedi voluntarily?"

Mace looked shocked as if the question was completely unexpected but then he nodded slowly. He understood just what was being asked. "We accept all those who walk in the Light... even Jedi Knights who have only done their duty."

Dull eyes flashed upward, meeting the compassion reflected there. Obi-Wan bowed slightly and said, "Thank you, Master Windu. I take my leave. May the Force be with you."

Mace looked at him, standing there so solemn, his duty at war with impassioned regret. In that instant, the Bendu champion must have truly understood just what price Obi-Wan Kenobi was paying. His reply was heartfelt. "And may the Force be with you, Obi-Wan."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Mace Windu stood by the window and watched the landspeeder as it vanished into the far wood and out of sight. Sighing with both deep aggravation and bone-weary sorrow, he turned on his comlink and waited for an answer. It wasn't long in coming.

"Jinn here."

The familiar voice drove Mace further into his anger, almost wishing the speaker was present so that he could cheerfully throttle him. His deep rumble was mild, though. "Are you alone?"

"Yes, is he gone?"

Mace, his ire peaking, growled back, "You, Qui-Gon Jinn, are a fool. What were you thinking?"

The response was gentle. "I take it then that he has left."

Teeth gritted, Mace shook his head. Closing his eyes for a moment, trying to tamp down his indignation, one large hand fisted, relaxed and fisted again. He wanted to strangle that stubborn gundark, jump right through the comlink and shake some sense into the man. "Yes, he is gone."

"You seem upset. Did he find out about the safehouse?"

His voice darkening with banked fury, he hissed back, "I...am...upset. But no, he didn't. Your old Padawan is smart. He figured out about the runaways although I denied everything. We'll have to start using the alternate routes immediately. I don't know what he'll tell the Council but it is best to assume the worst in this case."

"Good. Anything else?"

"He kept asking about Telos." Mace wasn't ready to discuss the sabers just yet. He needed to regain his calm center first.

The surprise in Qui-Gon's voice was absolute. "Why Telos? I haven't been there in years... well, since Xanatos died over two decades ago."

Mace sighed heavily. "I don't know. He wouldn't say but he did share the Naboo flight information with me. In a couple of cases, they were clearly wrong and I told him so."

Qui-Gon seemed puzzled, hesitant. "He... shared the information? That's odd and most certainly against the rules of investigation. Why did he do that, I wonder?"

"I don't know but his Padawan was upset with him about that and other things."

"Yes, they do seem to be at odds quite frequently." Qui-Gon chuckled lightly. "Obi-Wan has his hands full with that one."

"This is no laughing matter, you foolish gundark." Mace's clipped tones and rising anger shot into the comlink. Qui-Gon had to understand what he'd done.

"All right, Mace. You always save the best and the worst for last. What is it?"

"He found the sabers in your office."

Qui-Gon did not deny it and it only fueled Mace's disgust. The sarcasm that bounced across the link was strong. "What were you thinking? Oh, wait, I forgot. Feel, don't think." His voice turned hot. "Well, your instincts were wrong this time. This time you should have thought!"

"Mace, you need to calm down and listen to me." Qui-Gon waited a few moments, and then said softly, "I believe that the Force wanted them to be found."

Mace had not expected that. "What are you talking about?"

Qui-Gon's voice was deliberate. "I did not forget about the sabers, Mace. When I was there yesterday, I had fully intended to remove them along with the others. But when I took them out, it seemed wrong somehow and the feeling only increased as I left the office. I found myself, almost without thought, returning them to their hiding place." He paused, "I stood there in my office for a very long time, staring down at that desk."

Mace could hear the resignation in Qui-Gon's voice as he said, "Yes, even I knew that it was foolish to leave them in such an easily found hiding place. But I could not ignore what my 'instincts' were telling me. Mace, the Force wants me to go to Coruscant with Obi-Wan. It is the only explanation."

He paused, deep in thought. "Are you sure, Qui-Gon? I doubt that we would be able to get you out."

"Yes, I'm very sure of this. I do not know what waits for me in the Temple but it is important that I go. Even my son had foreseen that I would leave with Obi-Wan."

"Very well." Mace was resigned. He knew that he could not talk Qui-Gon out of going. "Kenobi will probably be there in the morning."

"Morning?" The news seemed to startle Qui-Gon. Mace could hear the jangle of it through the comlink.

"Yes, I believe that Obi-Wan is giving you time to go into hiding if possible. I told him that you would not."

"That is very foolish and very brave of my fine young apprentice. I hope that he will not reap the reward of his compassion with those damned bureaucrats at the Temple." Qui-Gon said softly, "Mace, I will not be talking to you again before I go. Take care of my family and watch out for Anakin. He is not happy with this but he will come to see that this is the right path."

"I will, my old friend. Until we meet once more, may the Force be with you."

Qui-Gon's reply was gentle. "May the Force be with us all."


	22. Chapter 13: Wisest of the Jedi part 1

**Chapter 13: ****The Wisest of the Jedi**

**Part 1**

Heading back to the spaceport, the landspeeder was crowded with profound silences. Concerned with the feeling of jumbled desperation leaking through her Master's duracreet shields, Atel drove swiftly, impatient to return, and arrowed the speeder straight for the dataport center. She kept glancing at him.

He sat stone-still, almost inanimate, his shuttered face stared outward, bruised eyes unblinking. Unseen was the radiance of the mountains reddening in the coming dusk, their saw-toothed majesty gleaming in sunset glory; unacknowledged was the joyous dip and whirl of birds reveling in the fierce celebration of evening flight. Obi-Wan appeared almost detached, withdrawn; only Jinn's captured lightsaber rolling silently from hand to hand betrayed his turmoil.

His seeming indifference to the triumph of their discoveries was disconcerting and very troubling to her; even more alarming was the suppressed tumble of chaotic emotions gathering like a thundercloud about him. Atel frowned in remembrance. With any other mission, Master Obi-Wan would have been quietly relieved to discover the truth, to bring a criminal to justice, to do his duty. Now he just sat there, silent. This was not good.

Jinn was guilty; that was very clear. He was rogue, after all, just as her teachers had said - despite Obi-Wan's protests. With his illegal sabers and his slave dealing and the Telosian murders a very real possibility, the old ex-Jedi had a long list of criminal activities. And yet the certainty of Jinn's guilt had only made her Master more unhappy. She knew that he had been mistaken in trusting Qui-Gon Jinn; his misplaced loyalty had only caused him pain and confusion. For that, she was truly sorry.

But Atel was relieved that the investigation was over. For her Master's sake, she tried not to bask in the warm glow of victory, the elation of a job well done. His anxiety, his anguish at this outcome, tarnished an otherwise stellar mission. She knew that the Council would be pleased; once again the team of Kenobi and Sl'etah had pulled a Corusca crystal out of the pile of bantha droppings - if only Obi-Wan could understand that and be happy about doing his duty.

She strengthened her resolve. She knew that she would have to be the strong one just this once. She was certain that, once they returned to the Temple, he would regain his balance and go on as before. When this mission was done, her Master would understand that it was meant to be.

She gave a small satisfied sigh when they finally pulled up to the dataport center. It would soon be over. A short report to the Council, a quick pickup of the felon and they should be on their way back to Coruscant within a few hours.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The Jedi Council was in rare form.

As part of the reluctant concession of the Order towards its field agents, specific times had been allotted for investigative reports, and, for the most part, it worked relatively well for Knights in good standing. Obi-Wan had learned from his colleagues that requests for Council time were answered with some bureaucratic interference, but the other agents were seen promptly, their accounts accepted with few questions.

But it was not so with him.

Tainted with a perception of the Jinn heresies, reaping the reward of his long-ago apprenticeship, he was always last on the agenda. His short reports had become long drawn-out affairs with much animosity and little support of his actions. Today would be no different.

One short hour later, the request finally acknowledged, Obi-Wan bowed before the group and reluctantly waited for their signal to begin.

He could see Atel shooting worried glances his way; his closed face seemed to give her no ease, dismay clear in the clench of her hands and the way she kept looking at him. But she said nothing. Instead, she stood there silent, in the typical Padawan position while they both awaited the Council's pleasure.

Before them, in the flickering light of long-range transmission, were three Masters of the Jedi Order and the ever-present Kenth Zaros, Senate Representative of the Oversight Committee on Jedi Affairs.

Obi-Wan shuddered slightly. His experiences of the past few days had changed his perceptions drastically and reminded him of what a Jedi should be. Quenching his distaste with a gargantuan effort, he hardened his resolve and looked more closely at the group.

It almost appeared as if Representative Zaros had not moved from the centermost chair since the last time Obi-Wan had spoken with the Council. Sitting like a bloated spider, the man was now dressed in robes of a gleaming purple so deeply saturated in hue as to be nearly black. Heavily embroidered with threads of purest gold, the cloak was encrusted with the rarest of treasures - Corusca gems, the iridescent diamonds of Ryloth, and Veda pearls. His boots almost a mirror with the black shine and trousers impeccably made, it was his vest that was most impressive, gleaming a rich grey purple in the transmission light. His every movement set off the jeweled sparks of light and color and despoiled credits.

Obi-Wan wondered how the parasite could move - the robes were so stiff with ornamentation.

Sitting to the left of Zaros was the frowning white-furred Bothan, Trest Sle'fey, who had given Obi-Wan so much trouble with the requested dismissal listings a few days back. The ever-smug Sera Tharten was at the Representative's right hand. Leaning in close to Zaros, she stared at Kenobi with narrowed, glittering eyes and wet mouth. Seated next to Tharten was the zealous Sullustan Master, Rangt Nunb, head of the Office of Dismissals and Expulsions, his scowling visage thunderous with annoyance.

Obi-Wan knew that the next few minutes would be a turning point - for himself as well as for Qui-Gon Jinn. He had hoped for some guidance in the gentle ocean of the Force but his pleas had been met with an uneasy silence and he was alone.

He swallowed hard and waited for the inquisition to begin. It did not take long.

Feigning a vast indifference, the rat-faced bureaucrat waved his bejeweled fingers towards the waiting Knight. "Well, Kenobi, it's about time. Let's hear it. When are you bringing Jinn back under arrest?"

"Representative Zaros, I will answer to the Jedi Council momentarily. But, before I do, I have a question for them."

The harsh murmurs to this unprecedented response echoed in the dusty halls of the Chamber and through the hiss of transmission. Master Tharten was the first to respond, snapping out, "Don't waste our time, Kenobi. We want your report, not questions." Her eyes were inky with profound annoyance.

"Master Tharten, your pardon but I believe that Master Nunb would best answer this as it pertains to his department." While the Masters looked at him, collectively astonished, he turned to the Sullustan. "Master Nunb, how many members of the Jedi Order have been dismissed..."

The noisy chaos that followed filled in the dataport office with sound; loud words were spilling out over the transmission - outrage from Master Nunb, and reminders to hold his tongue from fury-scarred Sera Thartan.

Even Sle'fey seemed incensed. "Not now, you idiot."

But through it all, Obi-Wan stood stiff and unrepentant, waiting for the silence to descend.

Finally Zaros, through sheer volume, was able to answer. "Listen, you little Jedi fool. It is not your place to question your betters. Whether the Senate has dismissed one Knight or the entire Jedi Order is none of your business. You are here to report on Qui-Gon Jinn, nothing more. Do I make myself clear, Kenobi?"

Obi-Wan bowed slightly. "Very clear, Representative Zaros. However, I did not ask your opinion but that of Master Nunb."

That he could reply and in such a way seemed to astonish the Council. Zaros, in particular, looked as if he were going to explode. Perhaps the bureaucrat was finally realizing that sending Obi-Wan on this mission had not been such a good idea after all.

"Councilors, I am not accustomed to such rude behavior." Zaros smoothed down his vest, sputtering fury as he did. "And if you do not rein him in, I will be forced to take measures. Your allowance of this is not good management technique. And who knows, it might even spread throughout the Temple and then where would the Senate be? Up to its collective eyestalks in disreputable Jedi." He glared at Master Tharten. "This is completely unacceptable. He should focus on Jinn, nothing more."

Master Nunb nodded. "Senate Representative Zaros is right. It is none of Kenobi's business."

"And the deaths of hundreds of former Jedi are also not my concern?" Obi-Wan's defiance and scathing reply only seemed to incense the Council further.

Nunb, his eyes wide with shock, was quick to reply, "How did you know about the deaths? That information is confidential."

"Apparently not as confidential as you would like, Councilor. Did you think to keep this hidden? These murders must be stopped at all costs." The scowl on Obi-Wan's face was steel and stone.

"This is not your concern." Master Tharten was almost purple with indignation, her cold beady eyes veiled with daggered threat.

"Then whose concern is it?" Obi-Wan snapped.

Sle'fey was quick to reply. "We are studying the situation and the committee hopes to make a report to the entire Council next week."

"A committee?" Obi-Wan could not keep the astonishment out of his voice. "So you just sit and let our people die while you study this in a committee? This is unbelievable."

Sle'fey's bark was sharp, pointed. "Knight Kenobi, we are doing the best we can with our limited resources." He paused dramatically, his ivory fur frenzied in dismay. "Since you are so knowledgeable about the situation, the Investigative Committee of Unwarranted Terminations will be glad to accept your expertise. Plan on joining it once you return to Coruscant."

_If I return._

Obi-Wan's obstinate thought must have leaked past his shields because Atel glanced over at him, her brown eyes widening in shock. Ignoring her frantic, questioning probes through the Force, he continued, "And that's it then. That is all you will do."

"For the moment, yes. Return and we will discuss this." Sle'fey's piercing eyes bore into Obi-Wan's stormy ones.

Zaros was viper-quick on the uptake. "Now, Jedi. We are waiting for your report."

Obi-Wan moved into immovable stance. His face set in stone, arms folded, he stared at the images wavering in the blue mists of long-range transmission. His eyes were fierce with resolution, jaw clenched in stubborn resistance. He said nothing.

As the moments lengthened without sound, without reply, the tension built in the Council chambers and also in the databank center.

Atel was standing there, silent but her thoughts pounded into the Force, trying to break through. //_Master, what are you doing? Master Obi-Wan, answer him, please._//

Finally Nunb said, "Kenobi, you will report on your findings now or we will have to take steps to curb your insolence. And you might not like the result."

The threat was sincere - punishment, imprisonment, banishment. And still Obi-Wan said nothing.

A heartbeat, two and then the blue-tinged Thartan condemned him, her thin voice dripping with warning. "So be it, Kenobi. Return to Coruscant to submit to our judgment."

As Atel abruptly stepped forward, the Council Masters gave out a collective hiss. A senior Padawan of her stature should have known better than to interrupt a Councilor; it was not wise in the best of circumstances.

But Obi-Wan could feel her determination to try and help him, to do something to divert their anger away from him and fix this impasse.

Bowing low before the image, the very essence of a penitent Padawan, she begged, "Please Masters, a moment. Master Obi-Wan has not been well. He doesn't realize what he is doing. Please, let me reason with him."

Shrugging briefly, Sle'fey waved his paw. "Very well, Padawan... _reason_ with him. But do not take too long. Five minutes, no more. We grow impatient with his foolishness." Moving forward, Sle'fey pressed a single button and the image winked out, the snow of paused transmission filling the space.

Whirling to face him, her voice was rough with confused desperation. "What do you think you are playing at? This is no game, Master."

Sighing with a weariness borne of resignation, Obi-Wan met her gaze. "But it is a game to them, Padawan, a grand diversion full of deceit and treachery, power and death. An entertainment where they pull the strings and I dance to their tune. I was just deciding whether to dance or not."

She was clearly taken aback. Shaking her head as if to deny his words, she said indignantly, "I don't understand you at all. Do you think that defying them will help the murdered Jedi or Jinn or you?"

Reaching for his ragged cloak, with both hands she grasped his arms and shook him; she seemed frantic with worry. "The Council has agreed to do something about the fatalities. A committee is the first step in fixing the problem and you will be on it, helping to keep them on the right track, pushing for a quick resolution."

He looked on her with bitter, astonished eyes. "Padawan, when did you become so naive? They will bury me there with rules and regulations and nothing... nothing will be done." He pulled away from her, folding his arms in mutiny.

She stepped back, frowning. "Master Sle'fey gave us the information in the first place and he seems sincere."

Obi-Wan shook his head, looking down for a moment and then into her bewildered face. "He may be. I can no longer tell the good from the bad, the dark from the light. They hide their deceit so very well."

She moved closer, one small hand clutching his threadbare cloak. "Master, if you do not return, you certainly will not be able to help find out who is murdering the dismissed ones. Isn't that as bad as doing nothing at all?"

He hesitated, "Worse. It is a denial of... of what a Jedi should be." He hurried on, doubt and despair coloring his reply. "But they will thwart my every attempt at solving this mystery. Surely you understand this."

"Master, I only know that if you do not go back and try to discover the culprit, the murders will continue. If you ignore the wishes of the Council, if you refuse to be a part of the investigation, you are as much to blame as they. Chose this path of denial and you, Master... you will know that you could have stopped it and did not. Because you looked away. Can you live with that?"

Obi-Wan's murmur of resignation was bittersweet. "No... no, I cannot."

Atel's voice hardened again in her frustration. "Then give them your report on Jinn."

He shook his head. "They will destroy him."

Her fingers tightened involuntarily, the dark cloth bunching in her fist. "Wake up. Master. Jinn is a criminal, whether you give your report or not."

Gently, he covered her clenched hand with his own and looked into the bewildered depths of her brown eyes. "But if I give them what they demand... it is I, not the Council, who will betray him."

She yanked her hand from his grasp, stepping back, face now steely with determination. "If you will not give the report, I will." His eyes closed for a moment, frown deepening, painfully aware that she would go beyond his wishes and follow the Council's lead. "Master Obi-Wan, think about what you are doing. If I give the report and they tell me to arrest Jinn, I will do so, with or without you."

Her voice lowered, urgent and sharp, anxiety growling like an untuned hyperdrive coil. "It is my oath and my duty. I must obey the Council."

When he did not answer her, Atel pressed deeper, cutting through his choices with the swiftness of a lightsaber blade. "And if the Council tells me to take Jinn and you stand in my way, I will fight you if I have to. I cannot defeat you in battle, I know this, but I will do what I must regardless of the cost." She straightened, saying, "If I go down by your own hand, can you live with that? Can you?"

He shook his head, the alternatives tearing at his consciousness as memories - of a bright-eyed child smiling up at him, smoothing his sweaty brow as he tossed in fever, guarding his back as blaster shots pinged their way past his riposte, laughing, screaming, crying for her Master in her nightmares - flashed past with brutal speed.

Quietly, he said, "I knew from the beginning..." Pausing, he looked down at her, his very young apprentice standing there so stiff and steadfast, stony resolve in her uncompromising stance.

"What, Master?"

Saddened that it had come to this, Obi-Wan smiled briefly, his eyes heavy with regret. "That either way, I knew I was damned."

Atel stepped forward again, gazing up at him. "It doesn't have to be like that. Give them what they want." As his face hardened again, she said sharply, "Qui-Gon Jinn is going to be arrested whether you wish it or not. The reality is that he will return to Coruscant for judgment by your hand or by other Knights of the Order."

Pausing, she grasped his arms, her hands fisting in the fraying cloth, and spoke distinctly as if she wanted to force his understanding of the situation – as if she didn't understand just how much he did know. "But you have a chance to help him. He will need an advocate, someone who is a Jedi yet can speak for him in the Council Chambers."

She shook him slightly, jarring him. "Do you want him to go before the Council alone? He will need your help. Help him now by giving the report they require. We can do this, Master. I will help you with his defense - surely there must be a way to satisfy the Code and your own conscience."

Frowning deeply, his spirit stormy with regret, he just gazed at her, recalling what he had asked Jinn's apprentice just few days ago.

_Help me to prove that he is innocent, that he had done nothing wrong_.

Almost the same words from his mouth to hers and that remembrance was ash in his soul.

But more importantly, she was right. He could do nothing for Qui-Gon now and any further defiance toward the Council would declare him rogue and prevent him from helping his old Master. He grimaced, the taste of bile rising in his throat.

_Damned_.

On the very heels of that thought, Master Tharten's voice cut through the silence. "Well, Kenobi? Ready to give your report or must we order others to do your dirty work?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, nodding slightly and stepped away from his Padawan. Blinking, trying to clear away the dust of hypocrisy, he bowed to the ghostly images. "Forgive my momentary confusion, Masters. I am quite ready."

It was almost imperceptible but it seemed as if the Council members hunched forward as one, vultures all, looking at Obi-Wan as though he were a gutted sacrifice to their forsaken honor. Zaros, waving his bejeweled fingers, said roughly, "We've wasted enough time. Begin now."


	23. Chapter 13: Wisest of the Jedi part 2

**Chapter 13: ****The Wisest of the Jedi**

**Part 2**

It was not until he finished detailing Qui-Gon Jinn's business interests that the Council members became increasingly restive. Finally, Master Nunb interrupted. "Well, Kenobi, are you telling us that he has led an exemplary life? No problems, no misdeeds... the perfect hero, beloved by all?"

"No, Master Nunb, I am not. I thought that you would like a complete report before making a judgment on a man's life."

Jowls fluttering in annoyance, the Sullustan snapped. "Are you criticizing us, Knight Kenobi?"

"Of course not, Master. I was merely..."

"Enough of his laundry list. What evidence have you found that he is violating the Jedi mandates or the Senate's laws?"

Obi-Wan sighed, despair and resignation coloring his voice. Bringing forth one of the confiscated lightsabers, he held the gleaming carved tube in the palm of his open hand. A shining example of saber technology, it clearly condemned the owner - the weapon of a Jedi and forbidden to Qui-Gon Jinn.

"This was the only piece of concrete evidence that we were able to uncover."

Atel moved slightly at that, frowning, her brown eyes searching his shuttered face. He glanced at her quickly. His thousand whispering pleas for understanding ghosted through the Force but his apprentice did not respond. Stonily, she turned back, gaze sliding past Obi-Wan and towards the wavering images.

He continued, "We found it hidden in his office at the Bendu Sanctuary. It is one of three, all with the same configuration."

"So he flouts the law. Excellent." Master Tharten seemed quite pleased but then she began to frown as she took in the rest of his words. "What is this about a Sanctuary?"

"Master Qui-Gon Jinn is a founding member of the Bendu Philosophical Group. It is a charitable organization whose goal is to help those in need whenever disaster strikes. They have a sterling reputation among the Naboo people."

Zaros snorted, his words dripping with sarcasm. "Of course they do. Sterling reputation indeed." He glared at Obi-Wan, the irritation at this over-long discussion clear in his indignant words. "And that's former Master Jinn to you, Jedi."

Tharten nodded, her damp mouth pursing with disdain. "Yes, Representative Zaros, quite correct. Kenobi, watch your tongue." He bowed slightly in obedience.

Master Nunb, slick skin gleaming in annoyance, said impatiently, "Well, continue. What is this about a Sanctuary?"

"The Sanctuary is a large complex near former Master Jinn's farm. It is the main headquarters for the Bendu group. Here they teach, train and do the many administrative tasks needed for their charity work."

"Is that all?" Tharten leaned towards Obi-Wan, her black eyes tainted with anticipation.

He hesitated for a moment, not wanting to say more but knowing that his apprentice would if he did not. "No, Master Tharten. It is called the Sanctuary because... the Bendu felt they needed a place of refuge, of safety. As you are well aware, a large number of them had been murdered about six months after leaving the Temple. They have banded together for protection."

"What do you mean... aware? And what's this about a Temple? Who exactly are the Bendu, Kenobi?" Her sour words sliced through the static.

"They are an organization of individuals consisting of both non-Force users and Jedi dismissed from the Temple."

Tharten stood up abruptly, her hands clenched, eyes glittering with accusation. "Why didn't you tell us this sooner?"

Obi-Wan started to answer her but the Bothan cut him off. Turning toward the now-pacing Master, Sle'fey motioned for composure. "Sera, please. Kenobi is only informing us of his research. Let him finish." She returned to her seat with a huff and sat there glaring at Obi-Wan.

White fur smoothing down in an obvious attempt to regain calm in this increasingly tense situation, the Bothan asked, "Now, Knight Kenobi, how many former Jedi are in the Bendu organization?"

"Master Sle'fey. I appreciate your patience. According to the membership lists, there are 1688 dismissed Jedi among the Bendu at this time."

For a moment there was silence and then the clashing objections reverberated through the cubicle.

Tharten's answer was rough. "Rogues, all of them."

Nunb was sanctimonious. "A rival Temple, never."

"How many did you say?" Sle'fey's careful question warred with the effort to be heard over the others.

Zaros, his harsh eyes narrowed as he stared at Obi-Wan, was clearly waiting for the pandemonium to die.

Obi-Wan began to speak again. "Masters, I believe that you have mistaken the Bendu's intent. Former Master Mace Windu has assured..."

The blue-skinned Tharten growled, "Windu is there? Surely, he was..." She stopped, thoughtful and said nothing else.

"Master Windu was quite specific. He denied that the Bendu has any intentions of intruding on the Jedi's sphere of influence. He said that they had been very careful to follow the laws of the Republic so that there would be no conflict between the Bendu group and the Jedi Order."

Sle'fey's muzzle wrinkled in concern. "Did you believe him?"

"Yes, Master Sle'fey. He showed us around the Sanctuary and answered all of our questions. There were a number of items that skirted the line of the Jedi mandates, including their weaponry and their school, but I believe that they have not violated any laws."

Nunb's beady eyes narrowed. "Weaponry, you say. Describe it."

Obi-Wan sighed heavily. "Master, the Bendu use a lightstaff, a double-bladed weapon. They are based on lightsaber technology but they do not look like Jedi sabers even at a distance. I believe that they could successfully argue that they have not broken any law."

Sle'fey pointed at the lightsaber resting next to Obi-Wan's hand. "Except for that."

"Yes, except for that. Former Master Windu was as surprised as we were when we found them."

Thartan gave a displeased grunt at that revelation. "And the school you mentioned. What of that?"

Obi-Wan swallowed hard, drew in a calming breath, and answered, "They have been teaching their children the ways of the Force." As the Councilors began to argue once more, he cut across the noise. "Masters, as I am sure Representative Zaros would agree, the Bendu have every right to teach their children whatever they wish, as long as they complete the requirements of the Republic's curriculum."

The rat-faced bureaucrat said nothing but nodded reluctantly.

"Thank you, sir. Masters, unless there has been a radical change in Republic law in the past few weeks, you still need the permission of the parents to bring Force-sensitive children to the Temple for training." Zaros nodded again, his eyes narrowing with enmity. "I have asked and they have refused point-blank. At this time, there is nothing else the Jedi Order can do."

Zaros turned to Master Tharten and spat out, "Don't you people have any control over your own?"

Sle'fey said, "As Knight Kenobi pointed out, they are not our own and we cannot force them to give up their children."

"At this time...," Zaros said.

Sle'fey bowed in acquiescence.

Sera Tharten all but snarled at the bureaucrat. "We will have to investigate this further. A rogue Temple, whatever they may call it, is not allowed within the Republic." As Obi-Wan started to protest, she abruptly changed the subject. "Well, Kenobi, anything else to tell us about your venerable Master Jinn?"

When Obi-Wan did not reply immediately, she leaned forward, frowning. "Answer me! Surely, you wish to tell us that your precious Qui-Gon is a model citizen, dabbling in business and running missions of mercy to the far reaches of the Outer Rim. Ridding the Galaxy of drug cartels and slave traders, no doubt."

Obi-Wan's eyes widened at her sarcastic remarks; they had been too close to the mark. Atel must have made some slight movement because both Nunb and Tharten abruptly turned toward her.

Nunb's inquiry was acid. "Well, Padawan Sl'etah, is Jinn running a drug cartel or not?"

Glancing quickly, shamefully at Obi-Wan, Atel stepped forward, preparing to answer the Councilor when Obi-Wan spoke up. "Master Nunb, the evidence is quite circumstantial but it appears that Qui-Gon Jinn has been funneling slaves into Naboo for some time."

The jowly alien just looked Obi-Wan; Nunb seemed aghast, unable to speak. Beside him, Tharten began to snicker while Sle'fey said nothing, frowning concern with this news.

However, the Republic bureaucrat seemed most affected, his face stunned for just a second, before his great boom of laughter echoed through the Chamber and out into space. This went on for precious moments while Obi-Wan stood, silent and painfully stoic through the grating sound.

Finally, Kenth Zaros was able to contain himself only long enough to sputter, "Your precious Jinn is a slaver." Then he burst into uproarious laughter once more.

At last, wiping away tears of amusement, Zaros waved his hands toward Obi-Wan. "Thank you, Kenobi. I haven't laughed quite so hard in some time. You should give more reports on the ever-saintly Jinn."

Master Nunb was not so amused. "Representative Zaros, please. This is no laughing matter. The reputation of the Jedi Order will be stained forever if it became known that a former Jedi Master was dealing in slaves. Appalling business."

Frowning at the thought, the Bothan spoke up, "Are you sure, Kenobi?"

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "I am sure that he is transporting beings from Tatooine and Ryloth, Master Sle'fey. Once they reach Naboo..." He shrugged, seemingly indifferent. "They disappear."

Dismissing this information with a wave of his hand, Master Nunb said, "It does not matter where they go. If he is transporting slaves for profit or some other nefarious reason, it is still unacceptable to this Council. He will have to answer to us." His black eyes glittering with dismay, he turned back to Obi-Wan. "Is there anything else?'

Tharten agreed, nodding, a predatory look on her pasty face. "Yes, Kenobi, your Master Jinn has been quite busy. Surely there is more?"

"Nothing else of note, Master Tharten. My report is complete."

Atel abruptly looked at him, her brown eyes going wide. Her thoughts pounded frentically against his granite shields. //_Master, don't do this. You haven't told them about Telos yet. Surely.._.//

But her attempts at gaining his attention were futile. He stood rock-still, dismissing her agitation.

Sera Tharten leaned forward, staring hard at the Padawan before drifting her inky eyes towards him. "Kenobi, your apprentice seems unhappy with that last statement. Care to explain?"

"There was one more item but the data is flawed. I was hoping for additional information to clarify the situation before presenting it to the Council. I would not want to waste your time on something that is defective or incomplete."

She narrowed her eyes, staring at Obi-Wan with obvious distaste. "Oh, Kenobi...waste our time. I would like to hear about this _'flawed'_ data."

"The information is so absurd that I hesitate to even mention it, Master Tharten." When she said nothing but continued to eye him, displeasure plainly written on her hardened face, he sighed. "Very well. Master... former Master Qui-Gon Jinn has been accused of misusing the Force to gain ownership of several mines from the Offworld Mining Consortium on Telos and of murdering four mine owners."

The Council was speechless for a moment - Nunb shiny with rage and jowls quivering, the Bothan's fur a frenzied dance of concern and surprise, Tharten's purpled face satiated with grim satisfaction. And Zaros sat looking like a caught fish, mouth opening and closing with abandon.

Before the Council could pepper him with comments, Obi-Wan continued, "I'm sorry Masters but it is just not possible. I've known the man for many years. It is not in his character to do this."

A brief snort from the Sullustan broke the dam of silence. "Character...character! Slave trading, running a rogue Temple, owning an illegal lightsaber. Kenobi, you have an odd idea of his character if you don't think it possible for him to murder innocents."

"Master Nunb, I appreciate what you are saying. But we did investigate further. Former Master Windu assures me that Qui-Gon could not possibly have been on Telos on at least two of the days when the mine owners were killed, flight plans to the contrary. It is possible that the electronic data is in error. I was hoping to confirm his whereabouts on the dates in question while on Naboo." He hesitated. "When I had more substantial information, I was also going to request that the Council send an investigator to Telos to confirm the reports."

Tharten seemed outrages with the idea. "Don't be ridiculous, Kenobi. We would not waste the time of our people on something so trivial as this. The electronic data will have to suffice." She stared at him, eyes slitted. "And what was this about Windu? You didn't share the information with him, did you? That would be against the Standards of Behavior as you well know."

The threat was very clear.

Obi-Wan straightened, his eyes flashing, face tense with resolve. "As part of my investigation, I did ask Master Windu about Qui-Gon's activities on those dates. I judged that he would be helpful in this regard."

The woman growled, "You told Windu... you told him?! This is completely unacceptable." She turned towards Atel. "And you, Padawan, you let him do this?"

Atel glanced quickly at Obi-Wan and shook her head. "He is my Master. I..."

Obi-Wan interrupted, stern and adamant. "Leave my Padawan alone. She had nothing to do with this. It is my responsibility alone."

"Enough!" spat out Sle'fey. "These accusations will gain us nothing at this time."

Master Tharten leaned back, her eyes mere slits of black ice, her resentful face purpled with frustration. Obi-Wan stood there, awaiting the inevitable. It did not take long.

The Bothan stood, drawing up straight and tall, his fur flattened with indignation. "Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi, listen well. It is the judgment of this Council that Qui-Gon Jinn be arrested and brought back to Coruscant. He will be tried for his crimes according to the laws of the Republic and the Jedi Order. Kenobi, do your duty and we await your return. That is all."

And with that, the image winked out and only echoing silence remained.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The soft evening had given way to harsh night by the time they left the dataport office. In this part of the spaceport, there was little activity once darkness had fallen and the elegant, ornate buildings seemed as sullen masses of grey and shadow. Everywhere, the moonslight had turned the gently carved stone to stark lines of ebony and chalk. The glowing lights of distant amusement only sharpened the deep gloom of the here and now.

Seemingly undisturbed by what had just transpired, Obi-Wan walked slowly, the classic facade of stoic Jedi reflected in his leaden eyes and haggard face. He said nothing, had said nothing since that disastrous Council report. Beside him, matching his step with hers, Atel glanced anxiously at her too-quiet Master.

When they arrived at the speeder, he merely gestured for her to get in, then sat behind the stick and drove carefully away. Still he said nothing; the sole sound was the hum of the repulsorlifts as he moved the vehicle through the stone streets and marbled colonnades towards the hostelry.

Atel glanced at him once more. His face was lighted in the patterned reflection of green and stark moonsglow, the lines of his mouth flat, unhappy, and the frown tunneling his brow was sharp-edged and deep.

When, at last, they reached their accommodations and he powered down the speeder, Obi-Wan made no move to go in. Instead, he sat there, listening to the silence, and staring straight ahead.

Atel was deeply worried now. This was not the man who had trained her all those years, the gentle, patient Master with a dry wit and laughing eyes. Here was a stranger and she didn't know what to do. She needed to break through this infinite silence somehow.

"Master?"

He sat there for a just a moment and then began to speak, a murmur of enigma and questioning contradiction, his voice scarcely above a puzzled whisper. "I was going to be a farmer. Did you know that?" Atel quickly shook her head.

"So long ago, it seems a lifetime." A brief upturn of the mouth and then he turned solemn once again. "It was a lifetime ago. Just shy of thirteen and desperate to attract a Master, I let my anger control my actions, push just a little harder, parry just a little stronger than a Jedi should. Foolish mistake." His frown deepened and then smoothed out as the memories took over. "And because of that, no Master in his right mind would come near me."

He shrugged, shadowed irony in the set of his shoulders and far-off stare. "I probably wouldn't have come near me with that much passion and anger. Finally, I had a chance to prove myself before the assemblage of Knights and Masters, in a sparring match that ended in triumph. But I had used my anger and aggression to win the battle and no one wanted to take on a Padawan with such traits."

He gazed at her, quiet voice thready with loss. "Instead, I was shipped off to Bandomeer, to the Agri-Corps, a failure. I still loathe the place, even now. I don't think I would have minded quite so much if they had sent me elsewhere, into the piloting program maybe or the Engineering Corps but farming was never in my blood."

He looked away, off into the somber night. "I was disheartened, all thoughts of my ever becoming a Jedi Knight dashed into atoms. I did not know what to do, what to think." He paused again. "The odd thing was that Qui-Gon Jinn was on that ship. I never did find out the real reason, whether the Force was with me that day or maybe it was Yoda's machinations, I don't know."

He breathed a gentle sigh. "That man was always stubborn as a gundark. Even though I tried so hard to please him, to make him see that I could be a great Jedi, Qui-Gon refused to consider me as a Padawan, told me no several times and dashed my hopes into dust."

Obi-Wan glanced at her but it was clear he only saw the past; his mind's eye was turned inward. "Did you know that when hope is gone, when you have nothing left to lose, you are free, truly free? Free to make your own choices and be damned with the consequences."

"I was about to help Qui-Gon get clear of the trap we had fallen into, blow open the door and myself with it. The explosive was attached to my worker's collar, you see, and with very little time left, there was only one option - let the explosion rip apart the door and have a true Jedi save the planet. I would die, of course, but that really didn't matter."

He frowned again, caught in the memory of that time. "And when that moment came, without hope of surviving the blast and all my dreams scattered like ash in the wind... in that moment, I was finally free. I was free of the torment of knowing I'd never be a Jedi, free to help so that others could live, free to do something worthwhile one last time." He huffed slightly, smiling at the memory. "And in that instant, Qui-Gon called me Padawan."

Atel was irate. "That was certainly last minute."

He finally looked at her with clear eyes. "So it was. But ever stubborn, he would not let me die, refused my sacrifice and demanded that there was another way." He smiled at the memory. "We found it together. We saved Bandomeer that day and a lot of people and Qui-Gon Jinn became my Master at last."

"That's a lovely story, Master, but is there a point?"

Obi-Wan sighed, disappointed. "There is always a lesson." He looked off into the distance and murmured, "When all hope is gone, there is truly nothing left to lose."

"Master, are we talking about Jinn?" She seemed puzzled and more than a little alarmed.

"Of course," he murmured.

His response did not ease the turmoil in her eyes or her deepening frown. She looked as if she was growing more concerned with each passing moment.

But instead of pushing for answers, she only said, "Good. Now that we are here, we should be able to pick up our things and arrange for a transport back to Coruscant. A passenger ship leaves at first hour, according to my schedule, and that gives us plenty of time to take former Master Jinn into custody and get him on board."

"We will go to Qui-Gon's farm tomorrow, Padawan."

Atel was astonished. "Tomorrow?! You can't be serious, Master. Jinn will be long gone by then."

Obi-Wan shook his head, slowly as though the weight of the Galaxy burdened him beyond bearing. "No, he would be gone already if he were going to run. I imagine that Master Windu commed him right after we left. No, he will be waiting for us tomorrow."

"Master, are you sure?"

"Oh, yes. My old Master will be there. Of that, I am very sure."


	24. Chapter 14: Acceptance and regret Part 1

**Chapter 14: ****Acceptance and Regret go hand in hand**

**Part 1**

The day crept in, pale and overcast, clouds painting the snow-capped mountains in pewter light. Closer to the spaceport, the dappled woods and patterned fields of harvested crops seemed leaden and dull in the sullen air. Thunderheads, glowering in the far distance, threatened afternoon rain. But for the moment, the day was merely awash in greys and gloom.

The speeder, reflecting the murky colors of the morning mists, carved a swift and straight course toward the Jinn ranch. There was little noise inside the cockpit. The thrum of repulsorlifts gave a slow and steady beat to the sound of growing apprehension; the counterpoint of tiny shifts in speed and motor control was an annoying off-balanced whine, setting tremors of anxiety slithering through the ether. Quiet conversation would have been a welcomed overlay to the metallic dissonance but there was none. The coming confrontation occupied every thought.

Atel stared straight ahead. She did not need to speak; her fingers stretched taut over the speeder stick, the sharp ivory of bone and muscle, told their own tale of her inner turmoil. Betraying her in myriad ways, her hands made the anxiety conspicuous with shape and form and texture.

She had spent most of the night in meditation, thinking of what her Master might do, what he might say when they went to apprehend Qui-Gon Jinn. The arrest would not be accomplished with any ease.

The files, sent from Coruscant, had been quite clear. Former Master Jinn had always been exceptionally strong in the Force and was reported to be an excellent swordsman, certainly better than Master Obi-Wan. There was a very real chance that they might not be able to take him without serious injury. She would need to be alert to any threat posed by that rogue Jedi.

And then there was her Master, sitting there so calm and serene, his face disturbingly blank. She had not been able to sense him in the Force since the previous day; he had never shut her out like this before but his shields were strong as durasteel.

What was he trying to hide? Would he ignore the will of the Council and side with Jinn? He had been increasingly erratic, distant and confused since the beginning of this mission. In all other circumstances, the questions would not even arise. But now he was so still that she almost preferred agitation to this quiet.

"Master, we are almost there. How difficult do you believe it will be to arrest him?"

Obi-Wan gave a slow, soul-deep sigh and turned to gaze at her, his eyes hazy with calm detachment. "He was adept at evading capture on several occasions."

With that cryptic reply, the silence descended once more but the echoes of past missions, past lives lingered on.

"Master?" Atel tried again to break through the ice-sheathed barrier between them.

His voice seemed rusty, ill-used, almost burned as if by some powerful acid. "Padawan, when we reach the farm, I wish to talk to Qui-Gon alone."

Atel shook her head, deeply apprehensive at this unsettling request. "Why would you want to do that, Master?" She glanced at him, frown cutting her brow with disquiet and she floundered for a moment as suspicion began to wash through her. "I should be there. Jinn was a Jedi Master after all and one of the best swordsmen in several generations. Alone, he might overpower you."

Obi-Wan shrugged, seemingly unconcerned with the prospect. "I may be able to persuade him to come peacefully if I can approach him as his former Padawan. I know him." She started to interrupt but quieted at his stony glance. "I knew him quite well for a very long time."

"I want to be by your side, Master." Uncertainty chilled her voice. "I'm sure that I can help with the arrest."

"Do you doubt me, my Learner?" The dull grey eyes matched his voice.

"I have concerns about this, Master Obi-Wan. The Council was quite specific but you seem strangely reluctant to carry out their wishes. You _are_ going to arrest Jinn, aren't you?"

He looked straight ahead, still and haggard. "I will do what I must."

* * *

Qui-Gon Jinn was waiting for them as they drove up the gravel path to the rambling stone house. In the lee of the porch, with the ivory and emerald of blossom-covered vines a living backdrop, the peaceful setting seemed almost dreamlike in its serenity. The Bendu stood there, quietly watching their approach. Dressed in comfortable blue leggings and tunic, brown and silvered hair framing his face, he seemed untroubled by the sudden appearance of the two Jedi.

Obi-Wan could see the cobalt lightstaff gleaming clearly at his side. Qui-Gon was ready for them.

The future was approaching and he wasn't sure how it would play out. There were no dark powers muddying the Force but it seemed to dip and swirl with unmade decisions, a confrontation perhaps. His old Master was prepared; Obi-Wan wasn't sure that he was.

It would not be easy, no matter what the outcome.

Atel powered down the speeder, glancing several times at him, looking worried, but she only waited patiently for instruction. Nodding to her, Obi-Wan rose slowly, almost reluctantly, and moved past the vehicle into the open area of the pathway beyond. He gestured for her to follow.

Stopping just below the wide stone steps, he stood there, looking at his former Master, poignant overlays of shared memories impinging on Obi-Wan's consciousness with all the subtlety of a thermal detonator. He hastily shrugged them off. He did not need the distraction in this moment.

Qui-Gon stepped down onto the path and then halted before him. There would be no joyous reunion this time. Straight and tall, the large hands hanging loosely at his side, his blue eyes seemed as cloudy as the gloom sweeping across the mountains. He was watching Obi-Wan's every move, too, perhaps sharing in the reluctance of this moment.

"Have you come for me, Padawan?"

The words were gently spoken but Obi-Wan felt as if a vibroblade had sliced open his chest. Tamping down the guilt that threatened to destroy his hard-fought composure, he stiffened. "Qui-Gon Jinn, in the name of the Senate and the Jedi Order, I am here to arrest you for crimes against the Republic."

Qui-Gon nodded once, stoic visage firmly in place but his eyes were full of resignation. "I have been expecting you for some time. Of what am I accused?"

Hands clenched by his side in a massive effort to remain calm, Obi-Wan swallowed hard. It hurt to speak. "Possession of illegal weapons, specifically lightsabers. The Senate edict 327 restricts lightsaber use to members of the Jedi Order only."

Qui-Gon's mouth quirked slightly at that. Most people would have thought it amusement but Obi-Wan knew better. Behind the grimace was a long-buried sorrow.

Rigid in an effort to maintain control, his next words were caustic, cutting. "Suspicion of slave trading."

His old Master merely nodded at the allegation but his eyes were steady, a slight frown troubling his face. He shifted his stance and waited silently for the rest.

Obi-Wan's voice hardened, "Suspicion of Force misuse for material gain." Qui-Gon shook his head, seemingly perplexed, but said nothing. "And suspicion of murder."

"Suspicion?" A startled breath and Qui-Gon drew back, blinking rapidly, looking shocked at the accusation. "Murder, what murder?"

Shaking his head, Qui-Gon stepped forward again, his hands reaching for Obi-Wan, perhaps thinking that together they could make some sense of this absurd lie. His voice, too, was concerned and heated. "Padawan, surely you don't believe such a thing."

Obi-Wan straightened and then sidestepped quickly away, back toward Atel. He was rigid, uncompromising, his duty written plainly in the way he moved and the way he stood – out of Qui-Gon's reach.

Atel must have misunderstood Qui-Gon's gesture, must have mistakenly believed it to be an attack. Obi-Wan could not fault her for her zealous attention to duty. Her instincts for defense had always been good and it had saved him more than once. But as her hands came up, ready to fight for him, Obi-Wan reacted instantly to prevent further confrontation. His hand grazed one arm and he pushed her subtly backward. Thankfully, she settled back into ready stance, waiting.

But in that moment, Qui-Gon must have seen that Obi-Wan had left his question unanswered, had moved away from his touch to stand next to his Padawan Learner. Obviously misinterpreting the cause and unable to sense Obi-Wan's motivations through his impenetrable shields, Qui-Gon stopped abruptly.

For a single breath, there was silence.

It pained Obi-Wan that it had come to this - to see the look of betrayal in Qui-Gon's eyes and the way his shoulders slumped in defeat. It was clear that he thought Obi-Wan believed everything of which he'd just been accused.

But he could not tell Qui-Gon the truth; the game had to be played out.

Obi-Wan's face was uncompromising as he said, "Master Jinn, the Jedi Council has instructed me to return with you to Coruscant under arrest. I hope that you will not resist."

When Qui-Gon bowed his surrender, Obi-Wan nodded and looked down at Atel. "Padawan, please go and find Master Jinn's family so that he may say good-bye to them."

She looked at him, clearly worried about the request. "Master, are you sure? There is little time." She leaned forward, whispering, "You would be alone and he is still armed."

He looked again at his old Master. With his face neutral and Jedi stoic, Obi-Wan nodded once, sharply. "My apprentice has reminded me that you have not yet surrendered your weapon, Master Jinn. Please do so now."

Qui-Gon did not say anything but his eyes told of disappointment parsecs-deep, of pain and then a kind of acceptance. A lifetime later, gazing steadily at Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon unhooked the lightstaff and handed it gingerly to him.

Obi-Wan looked down at the weapon. Beautifully made and deadly, it vibrated with the essence of the man who had built it. His hand quickly closed over the used handle, the ribs and carving distinctly felt. He remembered how his Master had guided his own small hands in the movements of gentle kata and fierce battle, teaching him the thrust and parry of the blade, all the while learning about the Force and its subtle guidance.

But now... now he could not think of the past but of the present. Qui-Gon has always taught him to live in the moment. How unbearable it all was.

He shoved the weapon at Atel. "Put it in the speeder with the rest of the evidence and then go find his family."

"Master, this is unwise. At least, put the binders on him."

Obi-Wan shook his head, brushing aside her concerns. "I will take care of it." When she moved to thrust the cuffs into his hands, he swiftly held up his palm, blocking her. Sharply, he chided, "Padawan, he has given his word that he will not resist. There will be time enough for those."

His face was shuttered, hardened and resolute. "Master Jinn should be able to see his wife and son before we leave. You're wasting time. Go!"

Frowning, she looked at Obi-Wan. It was clear that she didn't like this sudden turn of reluctant Jedi into hardened Knight. She might have sensed something was off-balance but she had no reason to doubt his word. She searched his face, to look for trickery or reluctance in carrying out his duty but she would find nothing there. There was nothing to find. He just stood, still and unyielding, his eyes hard as stone.

Bowing her head in obedience, she first placed the deadly weapon in the vehicle, then stepped around the impassive Bendu and into the house.

As soon as she was out of sight, Obi-Wan strode forward, his cold mask melting into one of intense concern. Reaching quickly for a startled Qui-Gon, grasping his old Master's arms with agitation, the fierce whisper traveled the few centimeters between them. "Master, why are you still here? I would have thought Windu would have alerted you to this. You should have left while you had the chance."

Qui-Gon let out a long gratified sigh, and smiled, welcomed relief clear in his bearded face. "Obi-Wan, I knew my faith in my old Padawan was not in vain."

Obi-Wan was frantic, shaking his head in dismay. Looking down for a moment at his whitened hands, gripping and rapidly twisting the blue cloth of Qui-Gon's tunic, vexation clear in his every movement, he stared into the mild eyes of his Master.

Growling, he tried desperately to break through Qui-Gon's misguided composure. "Enough of this. I am here to arrest you but there is still time to run. The speeder is ready and I can always say that you overwhelmed me." His voice was frenzied with worry. "Go now. Before she comes back and we are lost." He looked at the Bendu who merely stood there smiling. "What are you waiting for? Go!"

"My Padawan, you have ever been a joy to me but never more so than at this moment."

Obi-Wan abruptly pushed himself away from Qui-Gon and stood there, bleak face stern with disbelief. The words were laced with frustration. "Are you insane? Have you been listening to anything I've said?"

Qui-Gon's voice held the smallest touch of amusement. "Yes, you are telling me to run away from you. That you will have to take me back to Coruscant if I don't leave immediately."

Exasperated, Obi-Wan barked at his old Master, "Then why are you still here?"

When Qui-Gon didn't move, Obi-Wan folded his arms tight about his chest, indignant. "You are the most stubborn, irritating, irascible man I have ever met. Do you want to go back to the Temple in chains? Do you want them to imprison you or worse?"

His calm reply astonished Obi-Wan. "Padawan, I must return to Coruscant."

Overwhelmed with the utter foolishness of that statement, Obi-Wan just stood there, unable to speak for a moment.

Growling with disbelief, he berated the impassive Qui-Gon. "You _are_ insane."

He walked away for a few paces then turned abruptly, clenched fists by his side. "Do you know what I did to get this opportunity? I sold my honor for this. I was going to defy them, Master." He quieted then, the frown deepening. "I thought that maybe... maybe, if I capitulated, gave in, I could talk you into running. That way at least one of us would remain unsullied." His mouth flattened in remembered shame. "Blast."

Qui-Gon murmured, "What have you done?"

His eyes were cloudy with guilt as he said, "I betrayed you." Bending his head in disgrace, his gaze did not waver from the coarse gravel beneath his feet. "I told them everything that I had learned - your slave trading, your lightsabers, even about the Sanctuary and the murders."

"Obi-Wan, I haven't murdered anyone."

He glanced up at this, nodding slowly. "Master, I know that you could not have done such a thing but the electronic evidence was very compelling. I had hoped to investigate further but the Council has demanded that I return with you to Coruscant."

"Yet you say that you have betrayed me." Qui-Gon's rumbling voice was very soft. "Could it have been that you were doing your duty as a Jedi Knight, nothing more?" Obi-Wan shook his head, denying the idea, but Qui-Gon continued, "If it were not me but someone else you were investigating, would you have told the Council everything?"

At his reluctant nod, Qui-Gon gave a quiet sigh. "It's all right, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan frowned at that, his mouth hard with annoyance. "If it is so right, why are you still here? Why haven't you left?" Leaning forward, pleading for Qui-Gon to escape the coming storm, he admonished, "Please, Master, for both our sakes, for your family, for Le'orath and Ben, you must leave. Now. Before it's too late."

Qui-Gon was adamant in his refusal. "Obi-Wan, I cannot. I must come back with you to Coruscant."

"Why?" All the frustration of the past few days thrust his question into the air like a vibroshiv.

Qui-Gon reached out, his large hand resting on Obi-Wan's shoulder. The remembrance of tranquil conversations, the gentle touch of his Master's concern, seemed only to bring more pain. "Because the Force wills it so. Did you think that your coming here was a coincidence? Again and again, the Force has demanded that I go with you. My meditations, Ben's visions, your very presence, all point to me returning to the Temple."

The rumbling voice of his old Master was serene. "Accept this."

"Accept what?" Atel's strident voice broke through the quiet moment. There was frank accusation in her tone.

She stood there at the top of the porch steps, censure in her face, her arms crossed in defiance. The brown eyes glared first at Obi-Wan, then flicked to Qui-Gon before returning with dagger stares, to her Master. Beside her, Le'orath Jinn, hand linked with that of her young son, gaped at the two men.

From behind Obi-Wan, a second hostile voice echoed the question. "Yes, I also want to hear the answer, Master Qui-Gon. Accept what?"

Anakin Skywalker stepped out past the green leaves and white flowers to stop just beyond the speeder, a pace or two from Obi-Wan. The young man appeared to be completely at ease but the blue eyes were narrowed and belligerent, his hands curling slightly as they hung by his side. He stood there ready for argument, ready for battle. A lightstaff of indigo and silver flashed wickedly at his belt.

Qui-Gon turned quickly towards his apprentice, one hand raised in an effort to curb any rash action. "Anakin, we have already discussed this. We agreed that there would be no fighting, that I would go with Obi-Wan back to Coruscant."

Skywalker shook his head, eyes narrowing as his fierce gaze moved from Jedi to Jedi. "With them, with him? I did not agree to such a thing." His face was set in stone. "They will destroy you and you know it. I won't let that happen."

Letting Ben's hand go, Le'orath quickly stepped forward. Brushing past Atel, she halted at the edge of the porch and pleaded anxiously for her husband to see reason. "Listen to him, Qui-Gon. You must escape while you still can." She looked down at her young son; the child's eyes were bright with unshed tears, his chubby hands grasping her tunic in bewilderment.

Le'orath's words seemed to catch in her throat. "For Ben's sake and mine, please."

The way she looked at him, the anguish in her eyes, the way her fear painted the air must have touched something in Qui-Gon. Closing the distance between them, he stopped at the bottom of the stone steps and gazed up at his frantic wife.

He murmured gently, "Le', don't. You know why I have to do this."

Le'orath's frown was turbulent with disapproval. Folding her arms, looking as if she'd battle draigons or determined Jedi to keep from letting her husband do something she must have considered foolish, she spat out, "No, I don't know why. All this nonsense of duty and sacrifice. When did your duty to the Jedi ever give you anything but pain? Please, Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon looked at her, shaking his head in resolute denial. "I cannot. Not even for you, Le'."

Anakin's voice rang out, furious, "Why won't you listen to her? This is wrong."

When Qui-Gon stood there, stoic-silent, staring at him, the teen grew more agitated. "Master, please. You know it can only end in agony. I've seen it. Going with him means your death."

Obi-Wan could feel Anakin's worry in the Force but this was no mere ravings of a distraught apprentice. There was a truth here. The teen had said that he'd seen Qui-Gon's agony. He'd _seen_ it.

Perhaps Anakin's gifts, powerful as they were, had given him insight into the future. And if the Force's gentle wellspring of infinite possibilities confirmed Anakin's deepest fears, it was up to Obi-Wan to make sure Qui-Gon never made that journey. But there was no time for visions or meditation or investigation, not now.

The irony was that he and Anakin agreed on one thing; Qui-Gon needed to escape before it was too late.

But Qui-Gon Jinn had always been gundark-stubborn. "I am going to Coruscant. With Obi-Wan. Accept this, both of you."

Even at several paces distance, Obi-Wan could hear Atel's soft sigh of relief. She must have thought there would be no resistance, no struggle or messy confrontation but Obi-Wan knew better. The Force was growing more agitated with every moment.

His Padawan was clearly waiting for his signal to complete the arrest. But instead, standing by the speeder, a sharp frown cutting pain into his skin, Obi-Wan thought not about how to drag Qui-Gon back to Coruscant for trial but how to get out of this, how to make Qui-Gon see that he needed to run.

_//Master Obi-Wan, what are you doing?//_ Atel's thoughts were pounding into the Force but he ignored her. This made her only more agitated. Apparently, she didn't approve of his reluctance to do his duty and she was distinctly unhappy about it, suspicious. _//Master?//_

Finally, she must have had enough. Her voice was ice-sharp. "Master Obi-Wan, it grows late. We must go if we are to catch the transport back to Coruscant."

When he continued to ignore her, when he stared instead at Jinn, his distraught wife, and their young son clinging to his mother's tunic for comfort, she said, "Master Obi-Wan! Remember your duty. Must I remind you that the Jedi Council has commanded us to bring him back to Coruscant?"

Anakin shifted in restless outrage and Le'orath looked furious at her statement. But Atel was ignoring everyone but Obi-Wan. "Master!"

A few heartbeats later, Obi-Wan give a slight shiver of unease, chilled with the thought of what must be done. Finally, drawing in a deep, despairing breath, he looked at her, anguish in his clouded eyes.

Nodding slightly, he muttered, "Duty first."

With that acknowledgement, Atel quickly strode forward, thrusting aside the scented blossoms and soft greenery that seemed to grow everywhere. Angling past an angry, grieving Le'orath, she glanced down at the child. The boy was standing there, hiccupping in bewildered sorrow.

Atel stopped for a moment and leaned down. She whispered, "I'm sorry, Ben." But the boy just burrowed his face into his mother's embrace, sullenly ignoring her soft words.

Straightening, Atel stepped down from the porch, stopping in front of Qui-Gon. Yanking out the required Force binders, she said clearly, "Qui-Gon Jinn. You are under arrest."

Qui-Gon's face was a mask of indifference but Obi-Wan could see the enormous effort at control, his Master standing there so rigid and severe; his blue eyes were bruised, sorrowful.

With a harsh jerk, Atel grabbed one large unresisting wrist and snapped the cuff shut, the spark and sizzle of energy coalescing about the binder. Leaning forward, she pulled at his other arm, pinning the second cuff closed. The sapphire color of the shackles intensified, little tendrils of shimmering light leaping from one arm to another, cold ruinous beauty.

Qui-Gon gave a little grunt of pain. His aura immediately muted, the binders cutting off his access to the Force, the torment of it vibrating in the air.

From behind Atel, the cries of the young boy grew louder as he exclaimed, "Mommy, they're hurting Daddy."

But in that instant, as the tainted shivers of the cuff's Force energy began to surround Qui-Gon, Anakin leaped forward. "No!"

He tried to angle past Obi-Wan, his hands thrust outward as though to tear away the manacles. But Obi-Wan shifted into Anakin's path, grabbing for his arm.

The young man twisted, slippery and sinuous, and deftly avoided the grasp but Obi-Wan was not to be ignored. Angling forward, his foot shot out and sent Anakin into a rocketing sprawl.

Instead of a clumsy dive however, Anakin merely tucked into a roll, the sudden jolt of twisted limbs moving into fluid grace. The crunch and clatter of displaced rock and soil was loud as he hit the ground, the lightstaff a noisy counterpoint as it rolled out of reach. The youth let out a sharp hiss as he brought up one bloodied hand. Then eyes narrowing, the bitter venom in his voice was clear.

"Jedi!"

The Bendu apprentice seemed to fall into the moment; his anger and determination to keep Qui-Gon from going with the Jedi, to prevent his Master's capture, to save Qui-Gon from himself, was plainly written on his face.

Anakin leapt up, almost soaring toward his Master's enemy. Obi-Wan reversed, wheeling away swiftly, startled at the frenzy and speed of his opponent.

But Anakin would not be denied. His hand grabbed one swirling section of Obi-Wan's ragged cloak, pulling it sharply. The sound of tearing cloth shredded the air but the fierce effort was enough. Obi-Wan was sent flying backwards in a sweep of brown.

Struggling to regain his balance, trying desperately to get up but entangled in his robe, he was trapped for a brief moment. Anakin leaped into Obi-Wan, their bodies colliding as both grappled for leverage. He thrust his hands towards his vulnerable throat but Obi-Wan pushed him up and back.

The momentum and Obi-Wan's agile use of the Force proved a powerful combination. Anakin was tossed over his shoulder and landed hard a meter away. This gave Obi-Wan just enough time to drop the ensnaring cloak and move into defensive stance.

"Anakin, we are on the same side," Obi-Wan shouted but the Bendu apprentice was not listening.

"Liar!" Anakin's fury stained the air.

He leapt toward Obi-Wan, his hands reaching out, ready to destroy.

Experience proved a cunning defense as Obi-Wan blurred into motion, skillfully sidestepping the attack. Whipping around, Anakin would not be denied and feinted left, then moved in, kicking at Obi-Wan's legs, hoping to bring him down. The faint sound of boot meeting flesh was followed by the crackle of gravel grinding beneath the two men as they tumbled to the ground.

The battle for Qui-Gon's future had begun.


	25. Chapter 14:Acceptance and regret Part 2

**Chapter 14: ****Acceptance and Regret go hand in hand**

**Part 2**

This was not how it was supposed to be. His Obi-Wan, his Anakin, were fighting each other and Qui-Gon could do nothing to stop them. Without the Force, he was helpless.

For a moment, he just stood there, thinking of what to do next. He could hear faint snarls of Anakin's anger and Obi-Wan's whispered appeals as the two fought but the Jedi Padawan was beside him, imprisoning him. He was much larger than Atel, but she had the Force on her side and he did not.

So he watched as the two were battling it out, his heart aching with grief.

Finally, he had had enough. He started forward, his bound hands held before him as he moved to intercept the pair. But quick as thought, Atel grabbed his arm, yanking him back. Slightly off-balance, he bumped into her, hissing, "They could get hurt. Let me help."

Le'orath moved forward, catching one manacled hand with her anxious fingers. Eyes wild with emotion, she pulled him close. "Qui-Gon, can you help Anakin?"

"Le', it's not Anakin that I'm worried about." His voice was laced with concern.

Atel looked at him with disbelief. "Do you think me a fool, Jinn? Master Obi-Wan can hold his own against any half-trained boy."

He didn't answer. A sharp crack of skin against skin tore his attention away from Atel and back toward the fight.

The struggle was intensifying. Anakin was wading in, his fist streaking toward Obi-Wan. Buthis oldPadawandanced away and then leaped over Anakin as he tried to pummel him again.

The aerial retreat failed when Anakin feigned with his own fast jump, fist connecting with Obi-Wan's stomach, doubling him over as he fell grounds ward. Soon, the pair were both bloodied. The onslaught of bruising attacks was beginning to take their toll.

"You are the fool." Qui-Gon's voice was hurried with anxiety. "Anakin is more than capable. If this fight escalates to lightsabers, Obi-Wan will be in serious trouble. Let me stop it before that happens."

She snorted in disbelief and ignored his plea, turning back to watch Obi-Wan grapple with his young attacker.

Qui-Gon grew even more concerned. Obi-Wan might not know how well-trained Anakin was. And any assumptions could be painful or even fatal. This fight needed to be stopped and soon.

Anakin pushed forward defiantly, sweeping in with a flying kick, trying to end the conflict in his favor. But Obi-Wan moved impossibly fast, his upper torso twisting as he shifted abruptly, intent on capturing Anakin's outstretched leg and bringing him down.

Anakin must have realized his mistake because he tried to compensate by flinging his body away from Obi-Wan, hoping to regain control. The pebbles beneath his feet shifted abruptly under the strain, throwing him off-balance. He fell awkwardly, a mere breath away from Obi-Wan's grasp.

In a blur of motion, Obi-Wan was on him, flinging him face down onto the gravel path. Anakin's chest plowed into the stones, one hand locked behind his back, the other out-flung but tightly bound by the Jedi's own. Obi-Wan pressed his body into Anakin's, forcing him to remain still.

Anakin tried desperately to break free but could not; he was caught tight.

Obi-Wan leaned forward, speaking gently, "Anakin, I am not your enemy." He nodded back towards Qui-Gon. "I am not _his_ enemy."

Anakin struggled, trying to gain some purchase to break free. "Liar." He twisted hard but to no avail. "I've seen the future, Jedi. You and your precious Council are going to torture him. I've seen it!"

"No, that can't be true. You must be mistaken."

"No mistake, Jedi. And it's all your fault." Anakin growled, lifting his head, his sharp blue eyes meeting turbulent grey ones.

Obi-Wan was adamant. "I promise. I won't let that happen." His reply softened, "I don't want to take him back either, Anakin. But he insists on going. Help me to stop…. "

Interrupting Obi-Wan, rocking his body back and forth in a seemingly futile attempt at escape, Anakin hissed, "He's a damn fool. And so are you..." With that, his fingers fluttered lightly.

Anakin must have used the Force. The air was suddenly ablaze with movement, an astounding whirlwind of energies aimed straight for Obi-Wan. And with that energy came a cacophony of sand and rock, the very gravel from the path lifting and smashing into Obi-Wan's body.

Obi-Wan had very little time to react, raising his arm in a futile attempt at protecting his face. In the few moments of startled reflex, Anakin flung him off and scrambled away to evade the whirlwind of air and stone battering the Jedi.

As he struggled to stand, the sharp-edged pebbles continued to pummel Obi-Wan. A thumb-sized rock swiftly scored one cheek, sending a trickle of blood down his jaw as the granite rubble battered his face.

Qui-Gon was horrified. He'd taught Anakin how to fight, to use whatever materials were on at hand to defend himself but this was not defense. It was abomination. He shouted out, "Anakin, no!" But it was lost in the sounds of battle.

As he watched, frantic to do something, anything to stop the fight, Obi-Wan was being pummeled from all sides with a noisy blast of dirt and debris. Finally, his old Padawan managed to send a frantic Force push back into the barrage of rock, stemming their fierce onslaught. The clatter of falling stone was loud in the sudden silence.

Wiping his face with one blood-streaked sleeve, Obi-Wan looked at the young Bendu with astonishment. "How did you do that?"

Anakin snorted, "It's a child's game. Seeing how much you can put into the air at one time. Don't you Jedi ever go outside and play?"

"Not like that." Obi-Wan frowned at the thought. "What other tricks has Qui-Gon taught you?"

"That one I thought of all on my own, Jedi." The smile did not reach his fierce eyes.

"Impressive."

"Yeah, I'm just full of surprises." Frowning in deep concentration, Anakin pulled out his lightstaff and thumbed on the dual switches.

The twin blades gleamed a brilliant green in the dusky air, the doubled sound of humming clear and loud. Anakin stood there, resentment and battle-frenzy hard on his face, waiting for the right moment. Then, blurring with Force-heightened speed, he vaulted forward, one searing edge swinging down towards Obi-Wan's torso.

Atel and Qui-Gon both raised their voices in horror but Obi-Wan had no time to listen.

Instead, he back-wheeled furiously, bringing up his own saber in a flash of blue flame as Anakin's swerving blade missed by millimeters. The second green tip swept roughly upward, aiming for his hip as Obi-Wan frantically blocked the cut. Then the right blade moved impossibly fast, the descent so swift that the trail of green fire was all that the eye could see. Obi-Wan's blade was a blur, halting the staff in midstroke.

Before Anakin's left blade could begin its climb again, Obi-Wan lashed out with his boot, stabbing towards his vulnerable knee.

Anakin must have felt the movement. He shifted slightly, the foot impacting the upper shin instead. But the blow must have sent a sheet of agony through the muscles and ligaments around the joint because Anakin grunted in pain as he collapsed.

The emerald staff flashed off briefly as Anakin rolled away, hissing in pain. Then struggling to stand, he ignited the lightstaff once more. A green blaze danced across his sullen face as he stared at the Jedi.

Obi-Wan stopped. There was still a chance to prevent further bloodshed and it looked like he was trying to diffuse the thunderclouds of jealous fury sweeping over Anakin's face. His voice gentled, "Anakin, you don't want to do this. I am not your enemy."

Anakin huffed at that. "I believe you said that before. Saying it again will not make it any less a lie." He shifted painfully, his emerald lightstaff a glowing counterpoint to the thickening gloom.

"Don't do this, Anakin. It will only end in tragedy."

"Yes, it will. Yours, Jedi."

And with that, Anakin moved forward, his limp now imperceptible as he lunged for the Knight. He feigned the staff high then quickly flicked the left blade low pass Obi-Wan's guard, singeing his tunic as he danced away.

The Jedi's eyes narrowed, concentrating on following the movements, looking for weakness.

As the fight escalated, as the flurry of thrusts and parries between the two intensified into an ethereal blaze of deadly color, another struggle was taking place nearby. Qui-Gon Jinn watched with horrified eyes as Obi-Wan and Anakin began to batter each other with searing light, the scars of harsh energy appearing on cloth and skin.

He had to do something, anything to keep them from this foolish conflict. Releasing Le'orath, he jerked out of Atel's inattentive grip and began to move towards them once more.

The Padawan leapt in front of him again, hissing fiercely. One hand was raised in denial, the other hovered over the worn lightsaber at her side. "Where do you think you are going?"

"To stop this." He growled at her, his anxious eyes never leaving the savage rush of unexpected battle, his body leaning forward, frantic to reach the grappling pair.

Even as he watched, Obi-Wan flew backwards over the speeder, a soft grunt joining the noise of flying gravel as Anakin created another Force storm, stones and dirt whirling towards the Jedi's head. Obi-Wan scrambled to his feet, azure lightsaber ready as one steady hand pushed the chaotic debris back towards Anakin.

But he only ducked out of harm's way and nodded agreeably to Obi-Wan. Admiration briefly lit his young face before his eyes narrowed again. Leaping up onto the speeder and down again, he moved the staff in a quick slashing motion and the deadly dance began once more.

Qui-Gon sharply thrust his hand toward the dueling pair, almost frantic in his attempt to make her realize the truth, that Obi-Wan may yet lose. It would only take one mistake. "Look at them, Atel. Reach out with your feelings and see what is really going on. Anakin is strong in the Force, stronger than any living Jedi, and he is well-trained."

He held his breath for a moment as Obi-Wan thrust his lightsaber forward and up, almost cutting Anakin's lightstaff in half. But Qui-Gon knew that his apprentice had felt the movement. He saw the youth jerk back, out of reach as Obi-Wan pressed his advantage, slashing with lethal accuracy. It hurt to watch.

Turning to the Padawan, he spat, "Blast it, trust your instincts and look!"

Both manacled hands reached for her arm, bruising in its strength and fear, and yet there must have been something in his desperate eyes that moved her to turn and witness the ongoing melee. His voice was harsh with apprehension. "I need to stop this before they kill each other."

Even as Qui-Gon spoke, it was clear that Anakin was not done yet. His blue eyes seemed to mist over for a moment, then from behind Obi-Wan, a large tree branch arrowed its way towards the Jedi's unguarded back.

Obi-Wan was no inexperienced warrior and he must have sensed the unseen danger. Twisting at the last possible second, he avoided the projectile only to have Anakin pull up with the green blade, scoring through leggings and shallow flesh. He hissed as the pain flared but he managed to escape, leaping over the speeder and moving to regroup.

Atel grunted, an echo of Obi-Wan's pain, "Master, no." Turning quickly, she spat at the Bendu champion. "Stay here."

As she raced away, Qui-Gon's mouth hardened with rebellion. Waiting for a few precious moments, he ignored her rough command and hurried toward the fray. As long as the Force binders shimmered with polluted light, he was helpless to use his powers. But he must be ready. Powers or no, he must do what was needed to end this conflict.

Atel didn't stop him. Instead, as he followed her into the battle arena, Atel pulled out her lightsaber and rushed to Obi-Wan's side. Her violet blade was a stark counterpoint to his blue saber.

Obi-Wan glanced down at her and gave a brief grin. "Glad you could join me. I could use a little help." His eyes flicked to Qui-Gon standing close by and then, turning back to Anakin, he called out, "Stand down before it's too late."

Qui-Gon echoed the command, "Stop this, Anakin." But his apprentice just shook his head.

"No, I've got to save you, Master."

And with that, he slid over the back of the speeder, using his momentum to fly at Obi-Wan, his staff a blur of emerald light as he tried to strike at both with one killing sweep. Atel leaped out of the way but abruptly turned as he rocketed past, his vulnerable back exposed.

She leaned forward to strike at Anakin. But he must have sensed her movement and arched wildly, blocking her saber's upward journey while Obi-Wan's blade met his low and pushed, twisting the emerald blade down as the sizzling sound of sabersong split the air. Atel disengaged, then spiraled in, cutting at his legs, trying to distract him enough for her Master.

Anakin leapt away just as Obi-Wan slashed dead center and cut the lightstaff in half. One end sputtered and died, clattering to the ground. He growled and backpedaled quickly out of reach.

Instantly, Obi-Wan pressed the attack. Dancing forward, pushing Anakin back with the thrust of his blue blade, he began to hammer the youth with a flurry of attacks as Atel moved in from the side.

Anakin looked like he was starting to tire as he defended against the twin onslaught. Stepping back, parrying wildly, low and high as he met each blade with his own, he gathered his strength to make one final attempt at driving the Jedi away.

Breathing sharply, his eyes flicked to the fist-sized stones near the porch. The rocks began to tremble. Anakin thrust forward once more, forcing both Jedi back, then disengaging for an instant, backpedaling, and reached out to throw the granite debris at the Jedi.

Anakin must have felt the muted Force presence of Qui-Gon behind him. He shifted slightly so that Qui-Gon was out of the way of the onslaught, clearly trying to protect his Master while fighting the Jedi.

But instead of moving aside and away from harm, Qui-Gon stepped closer.

As his apprentice raised his arm to begin the assault, Qui-Gon swung both manacled hands toward Anakin's head, clipping him soundly. He dropped like a stone, dazed, looking furious and confused with this unexpected attack.

Instantly, Qui-Gon knelt by his side, then leaned over his body, holding him down, talking to him in desperate, urgent tones. "Anakin, you need to stop. You are not helping me with this, young one."

Atel ran up, pointing her blade at his throat. Perhaps she'd hoped to make Anakin understand that the fight was finished and he had lost. But Obi-Wan pulled her back, shaking his head, and thrusting binder cuffs at her, gestured toward the defeated Anakin. "We need to secure him quickly before he can do more damage."

"Yes, Master." She moved to Qui-Gon's side. Careful to remain out of reach of the still-groggy Anakin, she glanced at them both. Qui-Gon was pressing his apprentice down, determined to stop any further attacks, but he gazed up at her for a moment, defeat in his eyes.

Atel knelt quickly, bringing out the Force cuffs and pressing the first onto one stiff wrist. The blue glow began to sparkle as it powered up but Anakin, blinking rapidly as he gained strength after the stunning assault, resisted the pull of the manacles. Snapping the other cuff on proved to be a challenge as the youth tried to crawl from beneath Qui-Gon's grasp. But at last, the two shackles were joined; she stepped back quickly.

The sapphire light sizzled as the tendrils of cold fire flowed around Anakin's hands and he hissed in pain. Thrusting his bound hands towards Qui-Gon, his eyes darkened in confusion. "Why, Master? Why did you let them do this?" His furious gaze melted into defeat. "It hurts."

"The ache will subside in time." But the question remained unanswered.

Both looked up as Le'orath and Ben approached; the child was huddled tight against her tunic. Smoothing one loving hand over her husband's hunched shoulder, she peered anxiously at the struggling apprentice. "Anakin, are you all right?"

"I will be when these binders..." His frustration at the situation seemed to escalate as Anakin glanced up.

Qui-Gon followed his gaze. Standing nearby, Obi-Wan and Atel were watching them both. It seemed to infuriate Anakin and he struggled to push past his Master and get to his feet. Qui-Gon was immovable.

"Master, let me up! I can still save you if only..." Once more, he tried to shove Qui-Gon aside but he would not be dislodged.

His voice was harsh with condemnation. "Anakin, you disobeyed me." His eyes ice-hard, Qui-Gon looked down at his wayward apprentice.

Anakin stilled at that, looking as if he was suddenly afraid to hear more. "I had to, Master. They will destroy you if you go back to the Temple. My visions…I had to stop the Jedi before it was too late."

"I had already made my decision. You had no right to interfere." Qui-Gon shook his head.

The youth's eyes flashed with cobalt fire, his head lifting in urgent reply. "I had every right. Sacrifice yourself for them?? So they can... no, he's not worth it, Master, not worth your life."

"Anakin, it is my choice and my sacrifice." His voice was saturated with indignation.

Frowning at that, the apprentice spat back, "So that's it then. You'd rather go with him than stay here with me...with us?"

Qui-Gon drew back, surprised. "Is that what this is all about? You're jealous of Obi-Wan?"

Anakin quickly shook his head, his eyes flicking to Obi-Wan, to Le'orath, and back again. "No, it's just..." His mouth grew hard. "That's all you think about, that gundark and his little pet. Shouldn't Ben and your wife and, yes even me, be more important than those Jedi hypocrites? And it is your life now. Don't throw it away on them. Please..."

Qui-Gon sighed, heavy with the burden of what was to come. His apprentice was not the only one with visions of the future. "This has nothing to do with what I want, but what the Force wants. Feel the rightness of this, Anakin. See beyond the loss. It is what I must do." Softly spoken, the statement seemed to penetrate the youth's duracreet shields.

Anakin's reply was rough despair. "I don't want you to go."

"I know." Qui-Gon looked down at Anakin, now lying quiescent beneath him. "My apprentice, you realize that you have assaulted Republic representatives while they were on a mission. They have every right to arrest you and judge you here and now. It is possible that you will go to prison for some time for this offense."

For the first time since the scuffle began, Anakin hesitated, uncertain, "I didn't want...I just wanted them to leave us alone. But they didn't seem to be able to take the hint."

"They are well within their rights to take you. Anakin, I needed your obedience in this. I wanted you here, to continue your training with the Bendu, to help protect my family, to keep you safe. But now..." He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to gather the strength to do what must be done. "An apprentice of the Bendu obeys his Master's instructions at all times. If he does not, the Master has the right to cast him aside."

Anakin's eyes flew wide at that. "No, Master, please. I..."

Qui-Gon continued as if there had been no interruption. "If the Master so chooses, he may deliver up the apprentice to senior members of the Bendu Philosophical Group for justice or to any other authority he deems worthy of impartiality and fairness."

"No, Master, don't." His apprentice gazed at him, looking as if he couldn't believe what was happening. "Please no..."

Rising to his feet, Qui-Gon reached down and pulled Anakin up sharply. The youth seemed stunned, blinking in angry confusion as he stared unseeing at the ground before him. As Qui-Gon turned towards Obi-Wan, his hands still gripping his young apprentice with heart-broken strength, he looked into the grey eyes of his old Padawan.

"Knight Kenobi, I present my apprentice to you for judgment. Know that he mistakenly thought to protect me with this rashness but it is no excuse. He had agreed to abide by my commands while under my tutelage. He has not done so in this case. Do with him what you must." The words were harsh but Qui-Gon's eyes begged for understanding.

Le'orath's hand gripped her husband's shoulder with surprising strength. "Oh, Qui-Gon, no." But when he reminded her that Anakin must learn that there are consequences to his actions, she stood there, her mouth an unhappy line and said nothing.

Resolute, Obi-Wan drew himself up. He stood there, bruised and hazy with dirt, and stared at Anakin. Wiping away one small trickle of blood now coursing down his torn cheek, his voice rasped. "Anakin, what do you have to say?"

Anakin's blue eyes were fierce with anguish as he shifted under Qui-Gon's grip. "Master, please don't."

But he ignored his apprentice's plea, looking straight ahead and did not answer.

Anakin stiffened as he stared at the Knight, a touch of desperation in his voice. "I only wanted to help Master Qui-Gon. He should not be made to be the sacrifice you require."

"Did you think killing me would help Qui-Gon?" The words were quietly spoken.

Anakin swallowed hard. He must have realized that his efforts had been in vain, that Qui-Gon would leave with the Jedi. He looked ill.

His response was hesitant at first. "No, I never meant... I only wanted you to leave...to leave us all alone. I thought I could scare you away." Anakin's voice grew sullen with remembered indignation and the futility of his cause. "But you wouldn't go. And I kept having to push harder. And still you wouldn't go."

Moving his hand slowly up to wipe away the drying blood, showing Anakin the smears of brown and red staining his ragged sleeve, Obi-Wan grimaced wryly, "I believe you got your point across."

"But you haven't gone." His frustration seemed parsecs deep.

"We will be leaving soon enough." Obi-Wan's voice was laced with regret. "With Master Jinn."

Anakin drew desperate again, leaning forward, jerking out of Qui-Gon's tight grasp, and then frowning, shaking his head at Obi-Wan. "Damn it, Jedi. Haven't you been listening at all? For once, do what is right."

"Young one, it is far too late for that."

The words seemed to shake Anakin as he glowered at the Jedi. Finally, with jaw clenched and hooded eyes, he turned his head towards the cloud-tipped mountains. He stood there quietly, seemingly calm. But his hands were anxious, trying to escape the azure fire of the binders.

It hurt Qui-Gon to watch.

Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon, frowning. "What would a Bendu mediator do in this case?"

His eyes flicking once to Anakin before returning to Obi-Wan's concerned gaze, Qui-Gon considered the question for a moment. "For disobedience, guided meditation. For aggressive fighting, isolation for a day, a week, a month depending on the reason. For attacking another such as Anakin has done, isolation, shunning; expulsion may be required or imprisonment. For killing in anger, punishment according to the laws of Naboo."

Obi-Wan thought about it, looked like he was carefully mulling over the options. "The same as with the Jedi. And what do you want me to do, Master?"

Qui-Gon's response was straightforward. "I will not cast him out but attacking without provocation must be punished. Do what you must, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan turned toward the sullen apprentice. "Anakin Skywalker, you said that you wished to help Master Qui-Gon." The young man nodded sharply, then straightened, waiting for his fate to be decided. "I believe that you are sincere." Anakin's eyes began to lighten in relief but Obi-Wan was not finished. "You taught me a great deal today, Anakin. Uses of the Force that I had never contemplated. For this, I am grateful and I thank you for my lesson."

Obi-Wan drew in a hoarse breath, "But disobedience in an apprentice is not acceptable nor are unwarranted attacks." He took a step closer, steadily staring at him. "Will you obey your Master and accept my judgment?"

Anakin's bitter eyes flicked towards Qui-Gon and back to the Jedi, his indignant face a study in resentment. "Why should I? You are not my Master."

"No, I am not, but he has asked that I decide on the punishment for your rash actions." Obi-Wan lifted his head, quiet resolve and determined strength in his stance. "So I will make it very simple. You can accept my judgment here or we can take you back to Coruscant to stand trial before the Jedi Council. They will be less pleased than I." He paused, "Do I have your word?"

Anakin narrowed his eyes, huffing with deep frustration, looking like he wanted to continue the fight but knowing also that he could not. Finally, teeth gritted, with no options of escape and apparently incensed at his own inept failure, his response was curt. "Yes, Jedi, you have my word."

Obi-Wan straightened, folding his arms across his chest and staring at the young apprentice. "Hear this and obey, Anakin Skywalker. Say no good-byes to Master Jinn but turn and walk away."

The youth started at that, frowning, and moved to object. But he subsided when Qui-Gon sent him a scathing glare, reminding him - Anakin had given his word and he must keep it.

Obi-Wan continued, "Do not look back but go straight to Master Windu. He will be able to remove the binders. You are to explain your actions to him, including your motivations - all of them - jealousy, anger, hatred. Leave nothing out. He will determine your punishment for disobedience."

Obi-Wan looked again at Qui-Gon, who nodded in grateful relief. He continued wearily, "Tell Master Windu that, when your atonement is complete, you are to stay at the Bendu complex for six months - isolated. Talk to no one. Interact with no one. Since you will have plenty of time to reflect on your transgressions, begin to rebuild some of the Sanctuary's fallen masonry. I'm sure that Mace has a list of items that will need repair."

He stared pointedly at the apprentice. "Anakin, one final thing. No use of the Force is to be permitted during this time with the sole exception of defense for yourself or others. A little sweat, a little hard labor might help your outlook."

Anakin seemed bewildered, "Is that all?"

Obi-Wan shot back, "Isn't that enough?" At Anakin's quick nod, he spoke again. "When all of this is finished, your punishment will be complete. And forgiven."

Qui-Gon was relieved. He had known Obi-Wan would act fairly and honorably but the Jedi apprentice would likely be less accepting of his decisions.

In fact, Atel was incensed. Leaning close to Obi-Wan, a fierce burr of anger in her voice, she hissed, "How can you say that, Master? Anakin attacked you...with deadly force. He deserves to be arrested and brought up for trial. He should be in prison, not this."

"Padawan, my judgment is final." She scowled at that but subsided. Her glower promised of long argument later.

Qui-Gon was paying little attention. He had his own pain. Anakin had tried to hurt others in defense but still, he should have obeyed him. Now his apprentice would have to accept his punishment, would have to do what was right, would have to realize that, instead of remaining with Le'orath and Ben, he would be isolated for six months. Qui-Gon knew that was the hardest punishment of all for his young charge.

Even now, he could feel the weight of Anakin's stare. It was as if he were trying to communicate with Qui-Gon on some fundamental level, without words, without being able to use the Force.

But Qui-Gon ignored his apprentice. It was too late. The punishment was set. It had already begun and he would honor it, much as it pained him to do so.

Obi-Wan's voice was hard and unyielding. "Anakin, go now. Do as I have said. Remember that you have given your word to obey."

The apprentice snapped back, "I will not forget this, Jedi."

Out of the corner of his eye, Qui-Gon could see Anakin's fierce frown, the lines of indignation and failure on his face. Much as he wanted to say something, he did not. Instead he watched as his apprentice turned abruptly away and began to stride quickly towards the north, towards the Bendu Sanctuary.

He did not glance at Qui-Gon as he left. Anakin kept his word; he did not look back.

For a moment, there was silence as Qui-Gon turned to look at his family for one last time. He did not know if he would ever return. His visions, Anakin's visions, Ben's visions did not show much beyond future agony.

But the Force was not to be denied. He would go to Coruscant and meet his fate there.

Obi-Wan must have realized that Qui-Gon needed some moments alone with his family. Wordlessly, he gathered up the torn cloak and tossed it into the speeder and moved away slightly, gesturing for his apprentice to follow. Atel did not protest this time. She must also have understood the need to make their final farewells in private.

It was his son that broke the impasse of silence. Ben tugged on his mother's tunic as one small fist brushed away the wetness on his soft cheek, his luminous eyes swimming. "Mommy, when is Anakin coming home?"

Kneeling down, Le'orath gathered Ben in her arms, clinging to him tightly. "Oh, Ben, I don't know. He has to stay with the Bendu for a while."

Ben's small voice piped clearly, "For not listening to Daddy?" She nodded at that but the child turned towards his father, staring at him with wide blue eyes brimming with tears. "Is Daddy going away now, too?"

The hesitation in her words was a poignant reminder that Le'orath was also on the verge of tears. Only the determination to remain strong for the child kept the strangling emotions at bay for both of them. "Yes, Ben, he is."

"I don't want him to, Mommy. They're going to hurt him." He pointed to Obi-Wan, his chubby fingers wavering at the Knight. "He's a bad man for taking Daddy away. I don't like him. Make him go, Mommy."

Le'orath buried her face in Ben's bright hair, her breath hitching as she tried to maintain control. "Oh, Ben, I only wish I could."

Qui-Gon stepped forward and knelt beside his wife, his bound hands reaching for the young boy. The bright azure sparks of light danced across the Bendu's wrists, encasing them in light, but the child did not care. He began to whimper as he let go of Le'orath and threw his arms around Qui-Gon's neck. "Don't go, Daddy."

He leaned into the embrace, his bearded face gently nuzzling his son's wet cheeks. He whispered quietly, "My Ben, I don't want to leave but I must." He drew his head back, trying to meet the boy's eyes. But the child held on tightly and Qui-Gon fell back into his son's arms.

"Ben, do you remember what I told you about duty?" The tenuous shake of the red-gold head and the faint catch of a quiet sob told Qui-Gon that his son was listening, however reluctantly. "Sometimes, we have to do what is required of us even if it hurts. I need to leave with Obi-Wan." The child only gripped tighter, not wanting to let go. "And I could use your help with Mommy."

The child's reply was muffled, his face still buried in Qui-Gon's shoulder. "Mommy?"

"Yes, Ben. Mommy will be very sad when I leave. She will need you to keep her company and make her feel better. Do you think you can do that?" A tentative nod and Ben drew back, looking at his father's plaintive face.

Qui-Gon's smile was laced in sorrow. "Now, little one, I need to say goodbye to Mommy. Can you give me a goodbye hug?"

Ben's eyes grew huge, swimming again, and tears tracked down his cheek. He tightened his grip once more, his face digging into Qui-Gon's neck, burrowing in. The boy's quiet whisper was halting, the pain of loss coloring his voice. "I love you, Daddy."

Qui-Gon's throat tightened unbearably, "I love you, too, Ben. Never forget that." He leaned into the downy cheek and then gave him a gentle kiss, murmuring, "Love you."

The child squeezed him tightly for a moment, then loosening his hold on his father's neck, stepped back and huddled against his mother.

Qui-Gon stood rapidly, extending his bound hands towards Le'orath, inviting her to stand with him one last time. She looked up at him, angry jade eyes shimmering in the gloomy overcast.

Le'orath stormed to her feet, her arms crossed in furious resentment. She hissed at him. "So you're leaving then. Abandoning your family for Jedi."

Qui-Gon blinked rapidly, surprised at his wife's obvious indignation. "Le', you know that I had no choice. Let our last moments together..."

She interrupted, bitter irony in her voice. "You had a choice. You could have run away and come back later. They would never have been able to find you and you know it. Instead, duty wins again. Over me, over Ben, even over Anakin. Well, you can take your duty and…." She shivered, curling inward as if cold. Her face was suddenly wet with tears as she turned away, angrily brushing at her cheeks and staring at the stones beneath her feet. The silvered, cloud-swept mountains framed her in stormy half-light.

His first light touch was rejected with one swift jerk of her shoulder. But as he persisted, tenderly touching her back with his large hands, making soft circles to gentle the harsh stiffness in her stance, she began to lean into his caress. One hushed sob was heard as he began to speak, "Le', you knew when you married me that duty would come first. It always has and always will. But you should know that this is the hardest thing I will ever do... to leave you like this."

She whirled abruptly, grabbing his shoulders and dragging him close. "Blast it, Qui-Gon Jinn, you are the most irritating, stubborn man on the planet." She reached up, one questing, fervent hand caressing the rough silk of his beard. "I love you, you foolish gundark."

"I know." He turned his head for a moment, kissing her palm, then looked intently at the lines and planes of his wife's beloved face. He wanted to experience all of her in this moment, to memorize her image in his heart.

She smiled tremulously at that. "What do you know? That I love you or that you are foolish?"

"Both, Le'orath. Both."

And then she pulled him close, kissing his mouth as if it were the last time she would ever taste or touch him. His manacled hands followed the pulse-points of her throat upward, cupping her face as they embraced, trying to drink her in. Clinging to each other in a tumult of emotion, it seemed as if they were trying to make the moment last an eternity. But all moments must end.

At last, with one lingering caress, Qui-Gon stepped back, his eyes intense with grief and longing. "I will always love you, Le'orath." He turned swiftly away, moving towards the speeder. Stiff with loss, his voice cracked abruptly as he told Obi-Wan, "Let's go."

Obi-Wan nodded in sympathy. Signaling his Padawan, both Jedi moved in, surrounding Qui-Gon, shepherding him into the passenger seat. Atel took the back and as Obi-Wan began to drive away, Le'orath shouted out, "Kenobi, I won't forget this."

As he watched his family fade into the distance, Qui-Gon knew that he would not forget this either. It would remain with him until the end of his days.


	26. Chapter 15:The gathering darkness Part 1

**Chapter 15: ****The gathering darkness**

**Part 1**

The roiling thunderclouds flowed like cascading smoke over the mountain landscape. Hurrying swiftly towards the now-retreating Jedi, the murk with its random flashes of light and clamor of sharp sound, seemed almost alive. The storm was fast approaching.

Inside the speeder, the invisible tendrils of unsettled Force energy matched the storm without, seemed to flash and sputter around its occupants. But there was no corresponding shout of noise; instead, the vehicle was saturated with unsettled silences.

Atel, her vigilant eyes narrowed in suspicion and deep worry, studied her Master and the rogue carefully. When they left the farm, Qui-Gon Jinn had ignored the Padawan's sharp scrutiny. Instead, he twisted around to drink in the tableau of his grieving wife and child, gazing intently at the scene until his beloved family became lost in the distance and faded from sight. Then he seemed to shrink inward suddenly, closing his eyes, settling back into his seat. She caught a fleeting glimpse of anguish before the visage turned to stone. But the set of his hunched shoulders and bowed head spoke volumes of his misery.

She could almost see his grief in the muted tangles of the Force. And in that moment, she felt sorry for him - not for his well-deserved arrest and eventual conviction but for the love he obviously bore his wife and child. It was very likely that he would never see them again or perhaps only after Ben had grown to manhood. It was such a waste. And it could have been avoided so easily if only he had followed the rules of law. She sighed, heavily. She hoped her Master would realize that as well. Rules were made to be followed, not twisted to suit the moment or one's own desires.

Glancing towards the pilot's seat, trying to make sure that Master Obi-Wan was coping well with the tremendous stresses of this mission, she became concerned as she saw him gently brush Qui-Gon's sleeve for a moment. It appeared that he was almost too aware of the Bendu's misery. She watched as Jinn said nothing but nodded his head imperceptibly, seemingly grateful for his old Padawan's understanding.

But Atel studied them with now-troubled eyes. Obi-Wan was showing compassion and something more - empathy and an unsettling solidarity with Jinn. She had hoped that the arrest would have corrected this problem with her Master. Realizing that he had to bring back the rogue Jedi to Coruscant should have cemented his resolve but it appeared that things were more unbalanced than ever.

Things did not get better once they reached the transport. The speeder seemed to gather an exhaust trail of several individuals who followed them into the port and, once the engine had died, scattered about the area in a wide circle. Atel watched the crowd grow quickly. They did not appear hostile but anxious whispers morphed into fierce questions when it became clear that Jinn was a prisoner. A few had started to move towards the vehicle, intent on getting some answers, when Tov Antilles appeared.

Hurrying to catch the trio before they could escape, slightly out of breath, the Governor walked quickly toward the speeder. Even from a distance, his whole demeanor was that of a very angry man; his face was sharply marked with a deep frown. Antilles began to speak even before reaching Master Obi-Wan's side.

"Jedi Kenobi, may I be of assistance?" His voice was cold and harried, his eyes moving quickly as he took in the sight of the Jinn's glowing manacles, Obi-Wan's stoic facade and the Bendu lightstaff that Atel clutched so fervently.

Obi-Wan glanced at his Padawan, indicating that they should get moving, then stood abruptly. He turned to the impatient Antilles and bowed slightly. The day's events roughened his weary voice in a harsh rasp. "Governor, thank you for your concern. But we are on our way to Coruscant and the transport will be leaving momentarily. Please step aside."

Brushing past the man, Obi-Wan assisted Qui-Gon out of the speeder. Gathering their small packs and the treasure-trove of evidence, Atel moved quickly to flank the rogue, acting as point, hoping to stem any potential trouble. Taking the Bendu's arm, Obi-Wan began to guide the little group up towards the ramp.

But the Governor refused to be dismissed. Ignoring Master Obi-Wan's reply, he moved quickly to stand at the foot of the entry. "You realize, Jedi Kenobi, that if you are here to arrest anyone, you must go through my office." He glanced at the Bendu. "And I'm sure that a Hero of Naboo would need legal council if that were the case." His frown deepened, staring at the blue-hazed shackles entrapping Jinn's wrists. "Do you need legal council, Qui-Gon?"

Shaking his head slightly, it was clear that Jinn was resigned, saddened by this. "Tov, no. I appreciate what you are trying to do but you must let me go."

The Governor's voice grew soft, confidential. "Are you sure, my friend? This doesn't look right to me." His eyes flicked to the Jedi, then off towards the knots of people hovering nearby, before returning to Qui-Gon's solemn face.

"Knight Kenobi is only doing what is required. I am certain, Tov. Be at peace with this."

Antilles glanced again at her Master, staring hard at him for a moment, then nodded slowly towards his old friend. "Very well, Qui-Gon. I will do as you ask." He stepped back, turning towards Obi-Wan, the scowl returning in full force. "Jedi Kenobi, Qui-Gon says that he accepts this and I will honor his request."

He paused, gathering strength. "I have my...doubts. Arresting one of Naboo's citizens without a warrant is highly suspect, Jedi business or not. Be advised that I will be contacting your Order to seek further information in this matter."

With that, the Governor stepped onto the duracrete landing pad, allowing the trio to pass unobstructed up the ramp. As the Bendu moved to the ship's portal, Tov called after him. "Good luck, Qui-Gon." 

Jinn did not reply but stopped, his dull eyes flicking to Antilles for a brief moment, and nodded before disappearing into the bowels of the transport. Obi-Wan bowed once more and quickly followed.

Atel paused, looking about the now hectic launch pad. The crowd's distant murmurs had grown louder as several individuals began to argue with the Governor over his apparent inability to stop the arrest. Ignoring the noise, she scanned the area one final time before following her Master inside.

By the time she reached the small quarters, Obi-Wan had already removed Jinn's binders. They were talking in soft whispers at the far end of the cabin, but as she entered the tiny space, the sounds abruptly ceased. She blinked at the unsettling sight. Her gaze flicked uneasily between the two, noticing again how closely they were standing together, almost like old friends or perhaps conspirators in a plot.

Her anxiety began to spike upward as she considered the present scene and the events of the past few days. Staring at her Master, she could feel the silence between the men, the quelled conversation a tangible thing waiting for the right moment to resume - without her presence. She did not like this at all, but for the moment, there was nothing to be done. Jinn could not escape the transport in hyperspace and they had two days to come to terms with all that had happened, all that would happen once they reached Coruscant. It would be over soon enough.

She tamped down her rough worry. She almost lost Master Obi-Wan on Naboo in that terrifying fight with Skywalker; he could have died back there. He could have... died. And it would have been her fault, her idiotic mistake. Thinking Anakin wasn't a serious threat - what a fool she was!

Now, she could still lose him to this Bendu. Well, it would not happen. She still had time to reconnect with her Master, time to reconcile their differences, and time to reestablish their Master/Padawan relationship. She would make time, make sure it was enough. This was too important for her to fail. She wanted her Master back.

Nodding to Obi-Wan, she dropped the packs onto the nearest bed. It would be a tight fit with the three of them. Two narrow sleepers and an overhead bunk crowded the space; a 'fresher unit occupied one small corner. While there was a small transparasteel porthole and a beautifully-designed decor in blues and crème, the cabin seemed almost claustrophobic - no place for meditation and certainly no place for private conversation. Looking about, she found a small cubbyhole just perfect for the evidence pouch and shoved it inside, closing the door with an audible snap.

"Master, I'm sorry that I could not get a larger cabin or two. This was all they had on such short notice."

"It will be fine, Padawan. Besides, we have a window. Luxury indeed..."

"Yes, Master." A brief smile touched her concerned face. She had always loved his dry wit and this meager attempt at humor was a good first start at reconciling the rift in their relationship. She just hoped that it would be enough.

Looking more closely at him, she could see that he was still dusty from the fight, grass and burrs in his hair, and sporting several rents in his tunic and leggings. A few blossoms of blackened blood were clustered on his arms and legs and the ragged score on his cheek was clear evidence of how intense the battle with Anakin had been. No wonder the Governor had been so tenacious about Jinn. How it must have appeared to the bureaucrat - no calm cool Jedi demeanor but blood and dirt and intensity. Master Obi-Wan looked as if he had just fought the demon draigons of old legend.

Digging down into her pack, she quickly pulled out several small bacta patches. Acknowledging the silent Bendu standing by the porthole, she moved past him to Master Obi-Wan's side. Her hand gently touched his torn skin, noticed its trickle of dried blood and dark sweat. She shook her head, chiding him quietly, "Master, you need a healer again."

"Never that, Padawan." But he seemed suddenly tired, all the adrenalin of the past hours leaching away.

"Go clean up, Master. I'll keep... Master Jinn company."

He frowned suspicion at her sudden eagerness to help. "Are you sure?" His grey eyes were somber with hesitation.

She tried to reassure him with a fleeting grin, hoping to stem the morass of failure and wary uncertainty. "Yes, Master. I promise I won't carry him off while you're gone. Besides, the ship is about to leave. Feel the vibrations?"

Obi-Wan nodded unhappily, turning back toward Jinn as if to comfort him. But the Bendu was at the porthole, staring out through the transparasteel, darkened eyes wide and unblinking. The Force seemed to thrum with his anguish.

Through the window, a sudden flash of light crashed and lit Qui-Gon's face in a grim mask. The storm had finally arrived. The intense thunderclap that followed could not be heard through the thick durasteel shell but there was an instant of resonance before the sheets of rain painted the viewport in grey mist. The Bendu closed his eyes for a moment, then straightened, folding his arms tightly across his chest, his leonine face a stoic facade. Quickly raising his shields, he remained by the portal, gazing out into the sullen light of cloud and rain. But the calm pose fooled no one.

The vibrations increased as the ship leapt its way out of Naboo's atmosphere and then settled down as the secondary dampers kicked in. Above the heavy clouds and the rain, the sun stabbed its brilliant light into the window for a brief instant before the transport turned toward Coruscant. A few moments of star-dusted night and the planet disappeared as they entered the streaked luminescence of hyperspace. There was no turning back now.

Atel sighed with relief. "Two days of rest and then home." Obi-Wan frowned at that, concern for what lay ahead clearly marked in his clouded eyes.

She quickly realized her mistake. "Master, you really need to take better care of yourself." Thrusting the bacta patches into his hands, she gestured towards the 'fresher. "It will be all right."

Obi-Wan gazed at her for a moment, his eyes flicking toward his old Master and back again to his Padawan, then nodded. "I won't be long."

As the door closed behind Obi-Wan, Atel glanced again at the tall Bendu. Jinn had said nothing since her arrival. Standing there, intently staring out into hyperspace, it seemed almost as if the random streaks and shimmer of hyperlight were infinitely precious to him - certainly more important than the grim reality of this tiny cell; perhaps the beauty of the moment gave him some fleeting comfort with the devastating loss of his family and his freedom.

After the events of this day, she could well understand his need for quiet contemplation. But if she were to have any chance at regaining her Master's affection and regard, she had to try to understand this rogue and the hold he had on Obi-Wan. Atel knew that, with no privacy in the small space, this was probably the only chance she would have before returning to Coruscant and the Temple.

"Master Jinn," she began. She watched as his back stiffened abruptly. He did not turn to meet her intense gaze, but she could feel that he was listening. "I wish to thank you for helping Master Obi-Wan with Anakin." She paused, trying to gain some sense of what he was thinking and his motivations in helping his Jedi captors. "You were right."

At that, he twisted to stare into her questioning eyes but still he said nothing, caution in his silence.

"You were right to interfere." She hesitated, unsure if this was the right time, but she was determined to finish what she had begun. "Anakin is well-trained and his use of the Force today was astonishing. It could have been much worse without your intervention." When he nodded slightly acknowledging her words, and turned back toward the portal, she pressed the point. "But I want to know why you did it."

At that, perhaps realizing that she would continue to question him until she had the answers she needed, Jinn gave a heavy sigh and moved to face the young apprentice. His low voice was calm, polite, remote. "Did what, Padawan Sl'etah? Interfere?"

"Yes. You could have let Anakin continue the fight, maybe even kill my Master. But you did not. Instead you helped Master Obi-Wan. I want to know why."

He gazed at her, seeming to measure her sincerity as if trying to determine if she were enemy or ally. Finally, his voice still remote, colorless, he replied, "Perhaps I knew that Obi-Wan would win anyway. Perhaps I knew it was a losing cause and could only make matters worse."

Atel moved impatiently. "Master Jinn, I was there. Perhaps... you might try again. Why?"

He looked past her, his face shuttered. "Does it really matter? I am here and under arrest. Imprisonment is likely once we reach the Temple. Why seems to be irrelevant now."

"Not to me."

Qui-Gon sent a penetrating glance in her direction, noting her strained face; staring for a moment, he shrugged again. He said carefully, "I knew that you were here to take me back to Coruscant. Anakin disagreed with my assessment of the situation and disobeyed me, attacking Obi-Wan without provocation. What could I do but stop him?"

"You could have let Anakin continue and yet you tried again and again to prevent his attack." Her voice was insistent, probing.

"I knew that I was going to be arrested and there was little I could do about it." His voice saddened. "I didn't want Anakin implicated. He is young and impudent but he will make a fine Bendu Champion someday. I did not want his future jeopardized for my life choices."

"And yet you had Master Obi-Wan judge his actions." She frowned at this. "I don't understand why you didn't just let him get away. Once he was brought down, you helped us cuff him. You gave him over to the Jedi for judgment. Why?"

"Attacking without provocation is unacceptable, indeed unconscionable, especially for one who should be walking in the Light." His eyes clouded with memory. "There are always consequences to the choices we make. He needed to learn that lesson." He shifted towards the portal for a moment, drinking in the colors of infinity. "But in one thing, you are wrong, Padawan Sl'etah."

Qui-Gon paused then turned back, watching her troubled face, patiently waiting to gain her full attention. When he had it, he said, "I did not give him over to the Jedi for judgment; I gave him to Obi-Wan."

He stood there, staring down at her, apparently waiting for her to understand what he was saying. It didn't take long. He specifically said 'Obi-Wan', which meant he had not given Anakin up to the Jedi, did not believe the Jedi would have dealt with his apprentice fairly. It was bitter enough to accept and she had to admit close to the truth as well.

She looked away, her frustration cutting into her skin. She did not like the path this conversation was taking. "Yes, well... Master Obi-Wan has been very lenient of late." Her eyes sharpened as she gazed again at the rogue, then grew shadowed. "The Council would not be so understanding."

His mouth curled slightly, seemingly amused but the Force swirled sorrow around him. "Just so."

The dichotomy of the man frustrated her more. He seemed at peace with the arrest. Yet was he saying that her Master was Jinn's ally, that he was not going to follow the will of the Council in this matter? It made a frightening type of sense but she did not like it at all.

She snapped back, "Yes, Master Obi-Wan is a very compassionate Jedi. You were lucky that he was the one sent by the Council to investigate your crimes. Another Knight might not have been so sympathetic."

"Yes, I'm sure that the Council was quite deliberate in their choice." His face was a calm mask but the fierce eyes glittered in resentment.

"What does that mean?" Her reply was sharp, unhappy.

"Perhaps they were following the will of the Force in this matter." Qui-Gon turned away from her, looking out again into the ethereal beauty of hyperspace, peace in the ever-changing light.

Atel would not be denied. "Of course they were. Why else would they send us here?" Her eyes hardened, brittle with defensive indignation.

"Why else indeed?" His question echoed in the tiny cabin.

Atel was frustrated. She was no closer to understanding this former Jedi than before. She moved to face him, her back against the chill wall, her body taut as she gazed up at the tall Bendu. "What do you mean by that, Master Jinn?"

"Perhaps they were being kind in allowing my former apprentice to see his old Master once more." The ironic tone in his voice was space-cold in his condemnation of the Jedi Council and their motivations.

"I do not like what you are implying." Her mouth was a thin line. "My Master is well-known for his unflagging devotion to duty as well as his compassion for others. We were the perfect team to investigate your 'life choices'. I believe that Master Obi-Wan has been more than tolerant of the whole situation."

"Indeed he has. I only hope that Obi-Wan will not be punished for his compassion towards a former Jedi."

"Of course not. He has done his duty and we are on our way to Coruscant. Why should he be punished?" Her offended tone belied the swelling of uncertainty that his statement had raised. _Is he right? Master defied the Council for this rogue. Will my Master be condemned for his compassion?_

For a moment, Jinn stared out into the infinite luminous night; the portal's flickering glow bathed his face in a shadowy half-light as he gazed down at her. "Perhaps you may be able to answer that better than I, Padawan Sl'etah."

She studied his leonine features, trying to gage his sincerity, seeing nothing but calm and stoic acceptance. But as the Bendu looked down at her, she thought she saw his blue eyes darkening in intense pity. The stresses were building as he remained unfailingly polite but he answered none of her concerns. It was almost if he were taunting her. She pressed on, growling out, "I'm sure your assessment of the situation is flawed, sir. But I will not debate you on this issue. I have agreed to help my Master with your defense once we reach the Temple."

When he remained silent, seemingly lost in thought, Atel took a deep breath and tried to release her indignation. This stoic Bendu with his quiet dignity only seemed to infuriate her more. But she needed to understand him and there are a number of questions that remain unanswered.

"Master Jinn…," she began but he interrupted her.

"Is that wise?" His voice was a low rumble but deep concern laced the edge of his question.

"What do you mean?"

"It might be more prudent to distance yourself from my interrogation. The Council might see your assistance in my defense as collaboration. That could be disastrous for Obi-Wan and for you as well, Padawan."

Frustrated and skeptical, Atel pushed off from the cold wall, her clenched hands deeply hidden within the beige folds of her Jedi tunic. "Sir, I don't like your attitude or your implications. The Council is made up of the wisest beings in the Jedi Order. Surely you are not insinuating that they have already decided on your fate without a proper trial."

"Have you?"

She was taken aback; this rogue saw far too much. Blinking furiously, she replied, "I...my opinion has no bearing on this. I promised to help my Master and I will do so, with or without your cooperation."

The silence that followed was short. For the briefest of moments, the Bendu frowned at her fierce declaration before his visage smoothed into a stony facade, his hooded eyes turning towards the mysteries of hyperspace once more.

His question was sorrow soft. "Do you care about your Master?"

"What do you mean? Of course I do." The defensive words rushed, spilled out as she bristled at the question. Why would he ask such a thing? "He is my Master, my closest friend. Yes, I care about him very much."

"So do I, Padawan Sl'etah, and I have for many years." His voice lowered, growing hoarse with weariness. "If you truly want to help your Master, if you have any influence over him at all, convince him to distance himself from my case. I have no wish to see Obi-Wan condemned for my decisions."

She stood there, stunned for a moment. This was not what she had expected. "Master Jinn, I... for once, we agree."

"Agree on what, Padawan?" Obi-Wan leaned against the 'fresher door, his eyes flicking first to Atel, resting for a moment on the too-silent Qui-Gon Jinn and then returned with a sharp, penetrating stare to his apprehensive apprentice.

"Master Jinn and I were merely discussing his case before the Council." She moved quickly to his side, gently touching the small bacta patch on his cheek. An uncertain smile teased across her face as she looked at the clean undertunic, the bare feet, the drying hair. "Master, they have a water shower?"

Their eyes locked, each recognizing that the change in subject was merely a diversionary tactic. Atel was quite relieved when Master Obi-Wan nodded slightly.

"Luxury in truth, my Learner. A choice of sonics or water shower as well as a sonics cleaner. We will have fresh clothing for a change. Even Master Jinn will be able to clean up before arriving at the Temple."

Obi-Wan handed her the remnants of his torn clothes, clean but still with the ragged tears from the intense battle with Anakin. "I believe we will have time to repair these as well. My cloak got the worst of it; I may need to get a new one from stores when we return. We shall see whether the Jedi Order can spare us a few supplies."

"I have the repair kit. Shall I start on this or would you prefer to eat first? They have a dining hall aboard, a good one I hear, but we cn also have it delivered if you want to maintain privacy."

Obi-Wan said in weary resignation, "Food and privacy. We have much to discuss."


	27. Chapter 15:the gathering darkness Part 2

**Chapter 15: ****The gathering darkness**

**Part 2**

The ability to indulge in good food was a rare treat for Atel. But on this ship, the menu was extensive and there was a delivery service. A welcomed excuse to ignore the thought of painful discussions that must undoubtedly follow, the trio poured over the selections. It was almost amusing to watch as Obi-Wan's eyes widened at the expansive dessert list.

Atel knew his weakness for sweets although he rarely indulged. But when Jinn quietly teased her Master about a sinful confection of muja fruit and choca crème, Obi-Wan could no longer resist.

"I haven't had muja in some time. When that last blight swept through the Mid-Rim and the Trade Embargo hit, the price soared and I was unable to get more."

"Surely an infrequent indulgence was allowed on your missions."

"No, basic requirements only. Spending is tightly controlled and every credit must be reported." Obi-Wan shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. He motioned towards the pile of torn garments draping one bed. "When we return to the Temple, I'm sure that I will be chastised for not taking better care of my clothes." He shook his head and grimaced. "My cloak is ruined and likely they will give me another even more threadbare than the one I destroyed."

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan."

The Bendu's response seemed heartfelt although Atel had to bristle at his tone. The Order had done the best they could with the resources at hand. New clothing was the least of their problems.

"No matter. It is of little consequence." Glancing at Atel before returning his gaze to Jinn, he shrugged away the concern. "Besides, it helps to improvise. My Padawan is adept at reweaving cloth and repairing tunics. She would make a fine tailor in another life. And I've become quite a mechanic." A slight bow, his green eyes gleaming with mischief, he said, "Hyperdrives my specialty. I've been able to save our hides several times using little more than spit and imagination."

"But never farming." Qui-Gon's voice held the barest trace of amusement.

"No, not that." Turning to Atel, he explained, "Master Jinn is teasing, my Padawan. It is an old joke from my younger days at the Temple. Master Qui-Gon and I were well-balanced." He sent a fleeting smile to the former Jedi. "I would attempt to kill his plants with kindness and he would heal them with much forbearance. I didn't realize at the time that watering them every day was not a good idea."

"I must have learned a thing or two from you, Obi-Wan. That first year on Naboo, I killed more biologicals than I saved. I had no idea what I was doing. If it hadn't been for Le'orath…." He sighed, heavily. "She saved me in more ways than one."

Abruptly pensive, Qui-Gon's smile leached away until nothing remained but a stoic mask. He turned from them both and stared out into hyperspace. In the pulsing, ever-changing light, he looked old. Here wasn't the powerful former Jedi but a man about to be brought to justice. Atel could almost pity him.

He must have caught the look on her face. Qui-Gon gestured towards the 'fresher and said, "If you will excuse me, I will go clean up."

After Jinn disappeared behind closed doors, Obi-Wan turned quickly to Atel, his arms folded in stubborn determination. His voice, too, was firm, brooking no evasion. "Now, Padawan, what were you and Master Jinn talking about when I interrupted you?"

She looked quickly at the 'fresher door and then lowered her eyes, hiding them from his demanding stare. "Nothing of consequence, Master."

"That statement is unacceptable, Atel. And I should not have to ask a second time." His voice was hard as stone.

She looked up, hesitant, apologetic. "Sorry, Master. We...we were talking about Anakin and Master Jinn's motives for helping us."

"And did he clear them up for you?" He seemed puzzled at her reluctance.

"Yes, Master."

She didn't say anything else. She knew that a lengthy and heated debate of his actions down on Naboo, especially after their bitter discord of the last few days, would only drive him further away. That was the last thing she wanted to do. But he was never one to hide behind silences.

"Is there anything else you would like to ask that I might be able to answer?" When she only shook her head, he asked again, "About Anakin?"

At that, she gave a soft, dejected sigh, her hand worrying the ragged hem of her beige tunic. One fraying thread had come loose and she began to twine it between her fingers in apprehension. "Master, I've already overstepped my bounds on this mission and I'm sorry. It has been hard on both of us, harder than most." Her eyes flicked towards the 'fresher and then back to Obi-Wan. "I don't want to argue with you any more. I shouldn't be arguing at all. It is not my place."

"But you do have questions," he insisted.

"Yes, it's just..." She hesitated again, growing disquiet in her voice. "I don't understand why you let Anakin go."

"You thought the punishment was inadequate."

"Master... Anakin attacked you, a Republic representative. Ordinarily, that type of crime would have netted him three to five years in a penal colony. And yet you sentenced him to a mere six months among friends." For a moment, her mouth flattened with righteous indignation but she shook herself free of the emotion. A quarrel now would only drive her Master further away. She gentled her tone. "Yes, I feel that the sentence was inadequate. I believe that the Council would agree with me and the Standards of Behavior are very clear on this issue."

Obi-Wan moved closer, nodding. "You are right. He did attack me. But you forget that motivation is always a factor in sentencing."

She frowned at that, looking down at the ragged strands still weaving through her busy hands. But she said nothing as he continued, "Anakin wanted to protect his Master in the only way he thought he could. I understand this. In my time, I've ignored or defied a few rules to protect my own, especially my Master."

He leaned forward a bit, murmuring, "Even defied a few for my Padawan Learner, if you must know."

Her fingers stopped their busy dance as she glanced up to meet her Master's somber eyes.

He straightened, nodding. "I understand Anakin's reaction very well. Had I been in his place, I would have done the same thing."

"Master, you can't be serious! We were doing our duty, following the laws of the Republic."

Obi-Wan's voice was quiet but firm. "Not from Anakin's point of view. He only saw the hated Jedi arresting his beloved Master - taking him to a place where he would be tortured, perhaps killed." Shaking his head, he continued, "I would have done anything to rescue my Master from that fate. Breaking a rule or two to save him would have been a small price to pay."

She shook her head, mouth tightening, her hands busy with fraying fiber and emotion. She did not like this at all. Was her Master saying that he would put his loyalty to the rogue above that of the law and the Jedi Order? She did not want to argue, did not want to drive Obi-Wan further away. But she could not let this go.

Her protest was urgent, reminding him of his oath and responsibility. "But Master, you did not try to help Jinn escape as Skywalker did. Instead you arrested him. You carried out your duty as a Knight should."

"So I did." For a brief moment, the Force seemed to surround him, grey mists of misery.

She truly did not want to argue with him; there had been enough acrimony between them on this mission to last her a thousand years. But looking into Obi-Wan's face, Atel's expression turned fiercely protective. That young Bendu fool had almost destroyed the only person in the galaxy that mattered to her, her adored Master. _Anakin should be made to pay for the harm he has done_.

"And Skywalker should have let Master Jinn go as well. Instead, he attacked you...with deadly force." She leaned towards him, her body trying to explain what her words could not, that he meant too much to her to lose him now. Her voice was colored in tones of indignation. "Master Obi-Wan, he hurt you!"

"Padawan..."

Atel rushed past his protests. She needed to say this. "You cannot excuse his behavior. He hurt you and you let him get away with it. It was more than breaking a few rules. Skywalker needed to learn a lesson. What have you taught him but that he can get away with assault?"

"Padawan, you worry too much. Besides, he is learning a lesson. Anakin seemed to wield his power effortlessly, as easily as breathing. The restrictions on Force usage will be much harder on him than you think." It would seem that he was trying to teach her a lesson as well. "But it is the six month isolation that will teach the lesson you so adamantly insist upon. He will be shunned, Padawan - isolated from everyone - his friends, his mother, little Ben. It will be a harsh existence, especially for one so young."

Frowning, she seemed unimpressed but remained silent. She could see that he was not done with explanation and she wanted to understand - so much. "I agree that, in the first few weeks, he will not appreciate the sentence. He might even be thankful for the peace it brings. But the time and the loneliness will wear on him quickly."

Leaning in, Obi-Wan stared down at her. His words were strong, empathic. "I know that this is truly a stern task that I have set for him, Atel. And don't forget that he has already lost Master Qui-Gon, a loss that may prove to be the most damning. Anakin is now an apprentice without a Master and, in his own eyes, he believes himself a failure. I don't think failure sits well with that one."

It was not enough; Skywalker had to pay for his crimes and her Master was too gentle, too compassionate in this.

She abruptly tossed aside the thread, the ragged fiber spiraling down. Straightening, she gazed at him, her voice distraught with the frightening memory of storms and lightsabers, of that terrifying fight. "Master, he almost killed you."

"But I am still here."

"The Standards of…."

"Padawan, if you do not approve of my decision, who do you suggest should determine his fate?" He demanded,searching her troubled face. "You?"

"No, not me." She grimaced at the thought. "We could have turned him over to the Naboo Security Forces for incarceration or taken him with us under arrest to Coruscant."

Obi-Wan was incredulous. "The Naboo Security Forces..." He paused for a moment. "Padawan, the NSF would not punish one of their greatest war heroes for defending a Naboo citizen against hostile intruders - certainly not sentence Anakin to prison or isolation at the Bendu Sanctuary. Even Governor Antilles questioned our right to arrest one of their own. More likely, they would send a formal protest to the Republic Senate and the Council, questioning our behavior and denouncing our precipitous attack on Master Jinn. And then take Anakin out for a celebration drink to thank him for driving off the Jedi."

"Reward him? For attacking you?" She was stunned. "Do they hate the Jedi that much?"

He shook his head. "No, Padawan, not hate... but we are interlopers on this planet." Looking towards the 'fresher for a moment, he seemed to turn inward, thinking aloud. "We should have sent Jedi to help them in their time of need. But with the turmoil in the Temple and the dismissals, no one was available. In the end, they freed their world with Anakin's help, not ours. Is it any wonder that they would take his side in this?"

Atel huffed exasperation. "No, Master. But if you are sure that the Security Forces would ignore the laws of the Republic, how can you be so certain that Master Windu won't do the same thing? After all, the Bendu has no reason to accept your judgment."

"Master Windu may no longer be a member of the Jedi Order but he is an honorable man. He will see that the sentence is carried out. Even Skywalker's friends would not defy a Bendu Champion." Obi-Wan shrugged, his mouth quirking in irony. "Mace might even agree with you, Atel. He was always rather strict."

She folded her arms, her stance tight and frustrated; she was increasingly concerned that the apprentice could still escape her Master's sentence. "Are you sure that Skywalker will tell Master Windu the truth? He might weave some tale and make it believable."

"Padawan, Mace Windu was well-known at the Temple for discovering deception. I'm sure it is no different now." His tone carried conviction. "Anakin is many things - blunt, abrasive, strong in the Force - but he will keep his promise. Of that, I am very sure."

She was still deeply concerned. She did not want to argue with her Master but the Standards of Behavior were explicit. For Skywalker's crime, there had been only two choices - local prison or a return to Coruscant in Jedi custody.

"And arresting him and taking him back with us?"

Obi-Wan frowned suddenly. She could sense the Force shifting around him. "It was not possible. He needs to remain on Naboo."

"Why?" Startled, she sharpened the question more than she had intended.

"I don't know…."

Atel looked at him, doubt clouding her mind. "You... don't know?" Her voice grew distraught. "Master, I'm sure the Council will want more than that."

"I felt that he must stay behind. The Force was guiding me in this, Padawan. There is no more."

But she didn't understand. "The Council will not..."

"The Jedi Council was not there." He said, sharply, "If you think that my judgment is flawed, then so be it. But it is done and cannot be undone. I will face the consequences soon enough."

He began to turn away, apparently weary of the argument, of her inability to accept his decision. But she caught his arm, dragging his attention back. Her voice was hoarse with apprehension. "Master, that is what I fear most. You are already in trouble with the Council. The defiance you have shown will not go unnoticed."

He frowned annoyance. Swiftly she released him, her hand dropping heavily to her side as she stepped back.

"No, Atel, you are quite correct. My defiance, as you call it, will not go unnoticed."

He said nothing else, just stood there by the viewport, watching the pulsating infinity of hyperspace, ignoring her.

As the silence stretched thin and painfully long, doubts began to assail her again, filling her mind with dread. Could it be that Obi-Wan would walk away from the Temple? Would he turn from his life's work onto another path without her? Her disquiet began to skyrocket. Somehow, she must get him back to himself, back to being the best Jedi Knight in the Order, back to his duty and his honor, back to being her Master. Maybe Jinn's suggestion was a good one after all.

"Master, the Council might be willing to overlook your last report, if perhaps... if you distanced yourself from this case." She knew that he would not agree to such an idea lightly.

But Obi-Wan's response was instantaneous. "No!"

He was adamant. "Abandon my old Master? For them? What makes you think..." He stopped abruptly as he looked toward the closed door of the 'fresher. His face shuttered and stiff, he said, "Whose idea was that? Yours?"

Atel lowered her eyes, for the moment unable to meet his own. "I..."

He stalked away from her. Then just as abruptly, Obi-Wan stopped, looked again at the 'fresher door and said, "It was his idea, wasn't it? I should have known. Qui-Gon can be a self-sacrificing fool at times."

She shrugged helplessly. "It sounded logical. If you show impartiality, I'm sure that they would forgive your rebellious mission report. Then you might be able to better defend him."

Obi-Wan interrupted her, "Have you learned nothing these past few days?" His mouth thinned as he shook his head. "They aren't going to forgive anything, Padawan. When we arrive at the Temple, it is very likely that I will be arrested. I may even be expelled from the Order for this."

"No, they wouldn't." Surely he wasn't implying that the Council would throw him out of the Order for this.

"Other Knights have been dismissed for far less."

She couldn't keep the wild astonishment out of her voice. "But Master, you have done your duty and arrested him. Fought off his apprentice and brought Master Jinn to Coruscant. That must count for something. And Master Sle'fey wants you on his committee. He seemed genuinely eager to have you return."

"Yes, Master Sle'fey was anxious to have me at the Temple. I wonder why."

She moved toward him, gentling her hand as she grasped his arm again. She wanted to stem the bitterness in his eyes and remind him of just how important he was to her and to the Jedi Order. "It is clear that he feels you would be helpful in the investigation."

"Oh, yes, I'm sure that is his sole motivation." The bitterness was difficult to ignore.

"Master, it may well be. You have uncovered slave trading and an entire Temple of former Force-users. How can that help but impress the Council?"

He spat back, "Have you considered that he might want me back so that he can monitor my movements, my very thoughts? To have me close so that when the Council decide to punish my actions, I would be within reach."

Her hand tightened, fingers catching in the fraying cloth. Anxiety spilled across her face. "Surely, you are mistaken. They couldn't possibly..." She broke off abruptly as Jinn opened the 'fresher door and stepped back into the cabin.

The Bendu seemed quiet, at peace. He said nothing, just nodded briefly and sat down on the nearest bed. Leaning back against the wall, his unbound hair framing his somber face, he closed his eyes, ignoring them. Atel assumed that he was trying to give them some semblance of privacy. He must have heard the raised voices and the anger. But her Master was not going to let it go.

Obi-Wan turned toward Jinn; his voice was indignant, exasperation evident in the tone and the words. "If you think that I will step back and let you suffer alone, you are very much mistaken."

"Padawan, it would be the most prudent course of action."

"I will not abandon you again." Obi-Wan shook off Atel's anxious hand and glared at Jinn.

At that, the Bendu sat up, twisting slightly and looking into the stormy countenance of her Master. "You were ever stubborn, even as a child. I see now that the years have not quelled that trait."

Obi-Wan shot back, derision and indignation clear but the slightest touch of affection crept into his voice. "My Master taught me well."

Qui-Gon's eyes flashed blue, acknowledging the subtle jab. He murmured, "Your Master was a fool."

"I did not think so. Not then and not now." Glaring back at Jinn, Obi-Wan abruptly folded his arms, his stance immovable, rock steady. "My Master taught me many things - loyalty, duty, trust." He paused for a moment, his gaze falling toward Atel and then back again. "He also taught me when to stand fast."

"Don't do this, Padawan. You need to protect yourself. Don't throw your life away on something that you cannot change."

With that, Obi-Wan moved to the edge of the bed, then bending down, hands now firmly planted on his hips, he stared unblinking into Jinn's troubled eyes. His reply was direct, uncompromisingly firm. "Qui-Gon, I have been a Knight for ten years. I believe that I know how to make my own decisions."

Jinn stilled at that, the mask of stoic acceptance falling like a shroud over his face. Leaning back, he looked abruptly old and care-worn. His murmur was thin. "So you have."

"Master, don't do this." Obi-Wan sat down, next to the Bendu and, leaning in, gripped the older man's shoulder, shaking him gently. "I want to help you. Let me"

Jinn and her Master shared a look, affection and stubbornness and a kind of acceptance of things to come.

"I could never stop you before. It seems foolish to try now." Jinn said softly, "Very well, my Learner, I accept."

"Good. I'll get the datapad and we will get started." The relief in Obi-Wan's voice was tangible, even to her.

And abruptly she was alone again, still there in the room with them but alone, shunted aside for long-ago connections.

Obi-Wan was so focused on Jinn that he didn't notice her, not her shuttered face nor her sharp frown nor the liquid reproach in her eyes.

Another moment lost and she was further from him than ever.


	28. Chapter 16: Movement among the players

**Chapter 16 - ****Movement among the players**

Painted in rain with its rivulets of grey and silver and smeared half-color, the large window let in but little light; the office was clouded in pale, watery shadow. The storm, too, filled the space with sound - stuttering raindrops beating heavily against the transparasteel and the wind's unhappy howl. Occasional flashes of intense light and booming thunder cut the oppressive air with random noise. But for all the weathered chaos, within the space, there was uneasy silence.

Mace Windu leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in contemplation, his hooded eyes blankly watching the scatter of waterdrops flow and merge into puddles at the window's edge. He said nothing, just stared outward, seeming to ignore the other occupant.

The young Bendu apprentice stood silently but it was a stillness of shame and fury and failure. His body rigid with anxiety, Anakin Skywalker waited in the unhappy quiet for Mace's decision.

At long last, with a heavy sigh, the Bendu turned toward his young problem. "Jedi Kenobi did you a favor, Anakin."

"Favor!" Anakin's savage stance argued otherwise; his face tightened with shock. "He arrested Master Qui-Gon and took him away in chains. And he sentenced me to six months in solitary for trying to help my Master. How is that a favor?"

The sarcastic tone was not lost to Mace but he chose to ignore it for the moment. "You attacked him. He was quite within his rights to take you to Coruscant and put you in prison." He hurried on before a scowling Anakin could interrupt. "The Jedi have their own code and the 'Standards of Behavior' demanded nothing less. He did you a great service, allowing you to remain on Naboo. It could have been much worse."

"Worse?! It…." Looking at Mace's face, Anakin hesitated. Still radiating hurt and more than a little angry, he replied sharply, "I agree that Jedi Kenobi was more lenient that I would have thought."

"And he will probably pay a high price for that gift." Mace's voice was quiet as he remembered Obi-Wan's question and the duty that drove him.

"If Kenobi had let my Master go, none of this would have happened." Anakin gathered his strength, his eyes hardening. "Master Qui-Gon is about to be tortured, maybe killed and that Jedi veldt did it to him. How could he? To his own Master!"

"Anakin…." The reproach was sharp.

The boy leaned forward, hands flat on the desk as he stared defiance. "Master Windu, we can talk about this later."

Rocking back on his heels a bit, Anakin began to pace the office. He spat out, "We need to rescue Master Qui-Gon. Now, before it is too late! The ship may not have left yet, and even if it had, we could still beat it to Coruscant. The _Serenity_ has the fastest hyperdrive available. And I could pilot it. I've done it before and..."

"Anakin, enough." His command was cold, clipped and clear. "We are not going to rescue him."

"You can't mean that." Frustration filled the air.

"Qui-Gon has already made his choice. You should honor it." The censure in Mace's voice was unmistakable.

Looking miserable, Anakin turned away. "Master didn't understand. Those demons from the hells of Coruscant... they will hurt him..." The meaty thud of one palm slamming into the thala wood paneling echoed in the space. "Damn."

He twisted again, pushing his body forward, his fingers splaying across the desk as if the effort would hold back his growing anxiety.

"Master Windu, they will torture him for something he did not do. We need to get him back before that happens. Don't let them do this to him. Please!"

Anakin looked very much like a sand-panther, dangerous and unpredictable. The boy had always been wild, emotional and unable to rein in his temper unless someone was there to remind him. It had never been clearer that Anakin needed a strong hand. With Qui-Gon's arrest, it was up to Mace to make sure Anakin's actions didn't end in disaster, for him and for the Bendu.

"It is too late, young one."

Gently said, the quiet words did nothing to placate Anakin. Scowling, he straightened, hands now fisted into stark outlines of whitened bone and sinew. As he stared at an unmoving Mace, he spat out, "No, you are wrong. What kind of a friend would allow this? What Bendu _Champion_ would accept this travesty? How can you be so unfeeling?"

Mace rose to his feet and spoke in flat, unbending tones, "Stop! Apprentice Skywalker, your behavior in this matter is unacceptable."

The young man stepped back, rapidly blinking, obviously surprised at this abrupt turn in conversation. It was likely that he must have thought Mace would fall into his plans of liberating Qui-Gon. If so, Anakin didn't know him very well.

"If you don't rescue him, then I will. Alone, if I have to."

Mace's eyes hardened into stone. "You gave your word to abide by Kenobi's judgment. Your _word_, Anakin. Or have your forgotten your pledge of obedience to Master Jinn so easily?" Staring pointedly at the boy, he could sense the panicked anxiety and muddied emotions echoing in the Force.

"No, never!" Anakin shook his head rapidly. "I would have come back. I would have…."

"This is not a cloak to be flung aside when you are tired of it." Mace was having none of it.

Anakin's eyes darted frantically between the storm's greyed sky and Mace's frigid glare. "I will keep my word. I will! I just need to rescue…."

He interrupted with a thunderous "Enough!" Quickly, Mace closed the gap between them and stood there, his arms folded, immovable. "If you leave now, you will be forsworn."

"No." Anakin's face paled.

"You will be cast out of the Bendu and hunted as a fugitive. Is that what you want?"

"No!" Horrified, Anakin stepped back, a look of appalled denial on his face. For a few moments, there was only frozen silence. Then shoulders slumping, realizing that any further attempt at persuasion was futile, Anakin tried one final time. His voice desperate, he asked, "But how can I leave him to those gundarks? Tell me, how can I?"

"If you sought the Force's guidance, you would know." Mace softened his tone, and reached to grasp the young man's shoulder. "You must look past your fears, Anakin. What would Qui-Gon do in your place?"

While Mace waited in silence, Anakin's gaze drifted to the droplets splashing across the window and the silver rain misting the gardens beyond into greys and gloom. He mumbled, "He would... he would follow the will of the Force, no matter what the cost."

"And so he has." At the young man's half-hearted shake of his head, Mace said, "When your Master first told me what he was going to do, I argued with him, fought with him several times. But when I meditated on this, truly looked beyond my own petty uncertainties, Qui-Gon was, is right. He needs to return to Coruscant. Something is about to change. I cannot tell if it is for good or ill but he is at the heart of it." Watching Anakin struggle to accept the truth, Mace chided softly, "Let him go, Anakin."

Anakin nodded, his mouth twisting in pain. "What will happen to me now?"

"Qui-Gon has asked me to take over your training. Once your punishment for disobedience and your sentence from Kenobi are complete, we will..."

A soft beeping of a long-range com-unit interrupted him. At first, he grumbled at the disturbance but that quickly turned to relief as Yoda's transmitted form wavered into view. Signaling for Anakin to sit, Mace sank into his own chair, and leaning forward, faced the transparent image.

"Master Yoda, I have been trying to reach you for some time."

The small Master gazed at the Bendu; his gravelly voice was quiet, solemn, almost tired. "Sorry, I am. The trail grew cold. Sought I did, another way to find our quarry. What news have you that is so urgent?"

Mace knew that Yoda would be troubled but not surprised at the news. "A few hours ago, Qui-Gon Jinn was arrested. He is currently on route to Coruscant, to the Jedi Temple." He paused, wearied with the events of the past few days. "Master, it was Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi who took him."

Predictably, Yoda's expressive ears dipped as he contemplated this event, his sorrow clear in the large green eyes and thoughtful frown. "Kenobi, you say. An odd choice, that is. Use him as a tool against us." His mouth flattened as he said, "Humph, perhaps punish him they do, to require this of him."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Mace said bitterly.

The diminutive Master leaned forward, his clawed hands tightly clutching the knob of the ever-present gimer stick, a gesture of deep disapproval at this news. The hardened eyes and unyielding stance gave away Yoda's aching disquiet. "The first of many arrests, this may be. The Jedi have much to protect."

Mace nodded. "I agree. I'll send out word to our operatives to remain alert and stay out of harm's reach, out of _their_ reach." He leaned back, steepling his fingers once more in thought. "The children are still at Otah Gunga on a field trip. I don't believe they would harm the young ones at this time. However, Qui-Gon did inform me that the Republic is making noises about gathering information on all Force-sensitives, including children."

The old Master grew even more rigid, the stark disapproval clear in the wavering transmission. "Disturbing, this news is."

Mace's gaze flicked briefly to the computer 'port and back. "Unfortunately, Kenobi already has our database in his files." His biting tone was leavened with dark humor and the satisfaction of deceit well-hidden. "Well, our public database anyway. I'll bury the rest."

Yoda rested his wizened head on his claws. "Change the routes for our guests, you must."

Mace nodded. "Already done. Kenobi was able to figure out what we were doing with the runaways. I tried to divert him but he's not stupid, that one. He has no proof, however." Mace's voice slowed, the sudden frown cutting into his face as he remembered the alarming events of the previous day, a mere 26 hours ago. "He did search Qui-Gon's office with microscopic precision. He found three lightsabers hidden under the desk."

Yoda's voice was crowded with censure. "Foolish of Master Qui-Gon to hide them there."

Mace shrugged. They both knew that Jinn would do what he thought was right, regardless of other opinions in the matter. "I know. I scolded him myself about that when the Jedi left the Sanctuary. But he told me that it was the will of the Force that they be discovered, that he had to go back to Coruscant with the Jedi representatives. He said that he was going to be the sacrifice."

"Decide that alone, he should not." The old Master's reproach deepened with each breath.

"Master Yoda, I have to agree with Qui-Gon. Something is gathering and Coruscant holds the heart of it."

Closing his eyes, Yoda quieted for a moment, then breathed out his acceptance. "Feel it also, I do. But see the correct path, I cannot. The Darkness hides it well."

"Then I hope that our old friend has chosen wisely." Mace looked away, out towards the misty rain-soaked gardens beyond. Quietly, he recounted the yesterday confessions of one despondent Jedi Knight. "Obi-Wan talked about the Temple quite a bit while he was here. They have twisted the Jedi Order into something almost vile - punishments and paranoia. What have they become?" He turned back towards the old Master, seeking answers that he knew would never come. "We should not have left it to those slimy granite-slugs, those politicians and bureaucrats and creditors."

"The past, we cannot change."

Mace shook his head slowly, tightly grasping his misery-sharpened hands before him in studied discipline, the responsibility of it all eating into his hard-won calm. "But we can regret it. I should have tried harder to remain, to force them to see reason. But I bowed to the will of the Senate, thinking it was for the betterment of the Jedi Order. Foolish, foolish mistake."

Gently, Yoda reminded him of the lost past and the unknown future. "Agreed we did, to their demands; so did many others. As Jedi, it was our duty to follow Republic law. And our mandate." He sighed once more. "Master Windu, regret will not change the past. Know now the will of the Force it was."

Yoda gazed at them both. "From the Jedi, the Bendu grew. To help, give hope. Serenity and compassion - twin paths to the Light."

"Yes, Master." Mace nodded, acquiescing to the subtle reminder of just what they had become. "Talking with Jedi Kenobi brought back old doubts. He is unhappy there. He even asked about joining the Bendu."

Sitting up abruptly, Anakin's voice rose in disbelief. "He did?"

Mace blinked surprise. He knew, they all knew that, in these matters, a mere apprentice kept silent unless he had something of urgent importance to say.

Until now, as the two of them had talked over events, Anakin kept quiet. Radiating misery even in his silences, Mace thought that he was likely dealing with failure and the guilt over Qui-Gon's arrest.

Anakin had watched the discussion without interruption, without interest. But now he seemed shocked, unsettled, deeply disturbed.

Mace nodded, surprised that Skywalker could be so unhappy about the news. "I don't think Obi-Wan wanted to arrest Qui-Gon at all. He seemed genuinely anxious to find a reason to leave his old Master alone. I wonder what changed his mind."

Skywalker's eyes widened, his rising voice quavering in disbelief. "Master Qui-Gon, it had to be Master Qui-Gon! He kept insisting that he go to Coruscant. And yesterday, I interrupted a conversation between them where he told Kenobi to 'accept this'. I never found out what 'this' was. Instead I... I attacked..."

He turned to Mace, his young face changing to stunned remorse as he realized his own crucial blunder. "Could I have been wrong? Is it possible that he was urging Master to run?"

Mace's reply was firm. "Anakin, be at peace. We will discuss this later."

But the boy plowed on, ignoring the gentle reprimand. Shaking his head, blinking rapidly, Anakin swallowed hard, jaw clenching once more in failure. "No, I can't... I don't…." He lifted bleak eyes. "Obi-Wan kept saying that he wasn't my enemy. Blast it all to Ryloth's seventh hells. Was he telling the truth? What have I done?"

"Whatever was said, whatever was done, it is too late now." As the young man moved to interrupt once more, Mace threw him a sharp quelling look, riveting him in place. "No! We will deal with this later, Apprentice Skywalker. For now, be silent."

Anakin sent Mace a scowl of pure unhappy frustration and then nodded. With hunched shoulders and his face half-hidden in shadow, he settled into his chair, and gazed down at the floor. He looked thoroughly lost.

Mace watched him for a long moment before turning back to the wizened Master. "We still don't know what charges were brought against Qui-Gon. Slave trading perhaps, possession of forbidden weaponry certainly, but also Kenobi kept asking me about Telos. He wouldn't say why but there must be more to it."

Yoda nodded, the frown deepening with thought, his large ears twisting slightly in sorrow. "It matters not. Lies, deceit are the Jedi ways now. Excuses, they need not."

Frustrated, his face taut with worry for his life-long friend, Mace agreed. "We won't be able to rescue him for some time. I think we should focus on the needs of the other Bendu for the moment. Once the barriers are in place, we could formulate a plan for getting him out of there."

"Too late, it may be. On his own, Master Qui-Gon is." The old Master's eyes gleamed with resignation. Jinn's rescue would be nearly impossible to implement once he was dragged into the bowels of the Temple and the corrupted clutches of the Jedi and they both knew it.

Anakin jerked upright at Yoda's declaration, glaring at the transmitted form of the ancient Master. Guilt building in his eyes, he looked like he was about to argue for rescue when Mace cut him off.

"Not one word, Skywalker. You are teetering on a knife-edge with your continued disobedience." The razored tones and frozen exasperation in his voice was space-cold.

With an infuriated growl, Anakin subsided but his darkened eyes seethed with inner turmoil, the tempest of desolation and remorse warring with guilt.

Mace could feel his anger but there wasn't time for this. He would have much to discuss with Skywalker once the transmission was complete.

Yoda watched the unsettling byplay with curiosity and concern. "Problem with the young one, you have, Master Windu?'

Watching Anakin for another prolonged moment, his face cut by a troubled frown, Mace turned toward the Master Yoda. Sighing heavily, profound unease in his low voice, he explained, "Anakin attacked Obi-Wan without provocation while Jedi Kenobi was arresting Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan was exceptionally generous in setting his punishment. Frankly, I'm surprised that he allowed him to remain on Naboo at all."

"Humph..." Yoda's claws tightened around his gimer stick as he sank into meditation.

Mace could see that Master Yoda was testing the swirls and eddies of the Unifying Force, soaring through the infinite possibilities of the future. The old Master's face was crabbed in concentration.

A moment later, Yoda rasped a tired reply. "Wise decision it was. Young Skywalker is needed there."

"Why? What did you see?"

Yoda shrugged, a cryptic reply in the set of his shoulders and taut flattened mouth. "On Naboo, Skywalker must remain. The future comes fast and the paths are clouded. No more can I tell you."

"Yes, Master." Mace nodded. The hazy mists of the Force seemed to veil the future more and more as the Darkness spread. Perhaps, the way would be revealed in time; he must be patient. There was one final concern in this morass of failure and misfortune. "For the moment, the Jinn family is without protection. I will be going to the farm periodically but I don't have anyone to spare. Once some of the Bendu have returned, I may be able to station someone there more permanently."

Qui-Gon Jinn's family was vulnerable without the presence of an adept Force-user, especially with the added complications of Le'orath's pregnancy and Ben's age.

"I agree. Keep watch on them, you should," Yoda said.

Glancing at Anakin for a moment, Mace saw the young man flinch when the boy realized that his rash actions had left the Jinn family alone and defenseless. He said nothing. Anakin would need to recognize how his choices affected others; the bitter lesson was best understood if it came from within.

Mace moved on to other, more pressing issues. "Master Yoda, how is your mission going? Will you be returning soon?"

Yoda shook his head, a curiously unsettled look on his wizened face. The eyes grew shadowed, half-hooded in contemplation. "Return, I cannot. The killer takes many paths but Force-sensitive it is. Difficult it has been to track."

"This is not good news." Mace shook his head, his face betraying his unease. "Not unexpected, considering his kill rate of former Jedi."

The old Master's mouth tightened unhappily. "A black-cloaked being, they say. A face of death in red and black. Coincidence, it is not." Yoda looked past Windu's shoulder, looking at the silvered gardens beyond. "To Geonosis, the trail may lead. Go there next, I will."

"The droid factories? There is no Bendu on that desolate planet that I am aware of or Jedi either."

Yoda turned back toward Mace, the old one's wide green eyes heavy with concern and increasing worry. "Rumors of Separatist meeting, there is. Of Count Dooku and darkness and dead Jedi. The Force flows towards that place. So to it, I will go."

"I will not keep you. Let me know if you need back-up or if there are any problems. With the present situation, I will be stationed at the Sanctuary for some time." Mace knew better than to protest or question the old Master's wisdom. Yoda had had several lifetimes to comprehend the eddies and shoals of the Force's tangled currents. That knowledge had served them well in the past and would again.

"Keep you informed, I will. May the Force be with you." And with a wave of his clawed hand, the image vanished into the mist.

Mace bowed his head for a moment in quiet acknowledgement. "May the Force be with us all."

Silence reigned and lengthened as Mace Windu gathered his thoughts. Finally, his eyes flashed toward the huddled form of the morose apprentice, sitting quite still in the uncomfortable chair. Standing up, his arms crossed in frustration, Mace towered over the young man as he contemplated his next challenge.

"And now, Apprentice Skywalker, we will discuss your punishment for disobedience." Anakin winced, sinking deeper into the seat, trying desperately to avoid the incensed eyes of Master Windu. This would not be pleasant for either of them.


	29. Chapter 17:Old friends part 1

Note: I took slight liberties with Dex and Astri/Didi's stories. This is AU after all. It's not important to the plot just in case you were wondering. I wouldn't have even mentioned it but I didn't want you thinking I didn't know the JA books. :)

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* * *

****Chapter 17: ****Old friends, older enemies**

**Part 1**

The last few scraps of muja pie lay ignored and uneaten.

Scant seconds after Qui-Gon agreed to accept Obi-Wan's help, the food had arrived. The distraction of the droid bustling about the cabin, setting up the table and organizing the dishes before floating off to its next delivery, gave a brief respite to the emotions of the moment. That silence continued, broken only by the murmurs of how good the food was and when they would have the opportunity for more. Qui-Gon was reluctant to pursue the interrupted conversation. He did not want to test their new resolve, to probe their alliance - not yet. For now, the air was still heavy with unanswered questions.

"...Dex's Diner."

Blinking, Qui-Gon came out of his reverie. Deep in thought, he had missed the question posed by the Padawan but it was clear Obi-Wan was defending his choice of dessert with some vigor.

Atel remained skeptical. "A diner, Master? I would have thought the best places would be... well expensive."

"Not so, my Learner. The best I ever ate was at Dex's." Qui-Gon watched as the memories drew a gentle smile from Obi-Wan. He glanced at him for a moment, the spirited light in his eyes telling their own story of warm remembrance and dry humor. He could see that Obi-Wan needed to share his past with his Padawan, to reconnect after the last few bitter days, to ease his heart over all the arguments and anger. Qui-Gon sent a brief smile back, spurring him on.

"His nerf steaks were first-rate but it was his sweet-tooth that got me into trouble. Often, he'd have a stack of pies a kilometer deep and a line of customers around the block waiting to buy one or two or ten. They were all different and all delicious but nothing could compare to his muja pie." He shook his head in wonder.

Obi-Wan then turned a questioning eye toward Qui-Gon. "Funny thing is that he always had one waiting for me." Pausing, he looked more pointedly at his old Master, the barest hint of amusement coloring his voice. "If I didn't know better, I would have said that someone alerted Dex whenever I was in the area."

Qui-Gon wisely said nothing but nodded the truth. In the reality of missions, a few pieces of sweetened fruit seemed little enough reward and the young boy had always been hungry. Only when he had grown to manhood did the flow of dessert slow to a trickle. A brief longing for that child was quickly squashed - the past was past and could not be regained. But the man was here. Qui-Gon resolved to enjoy the moment, no matter how fleeting.

Obi-Wan's mouth quirked upward, the memory of his youthful zeal coloring his words. "Dex's place was amazing, especially for a boy fresh from the Temple. Full of fascinating creatures and exotic food. Clean and bright but with just a hint of scandal underneath, just a slightest touch of danger and unspoken secrets. Perfect for a thirteen-year old Padawan itching to get out into the galaxy."

"And were there secrets, Master?" Atel seemed eager to hear about his past.

"Probably. But a kid would only focus on the excitement and the adventure. Dex had been a space miner in his youth and he was always happy to spin wild tales of daring and peril - to my great delight." He shook his head, the playful gleam in his eyes making him seem years younger. "But Dex had his serious side, too. He was connected in ways I couldn't even begin to fathom. I could always count on him finding out the most interesting or obscure information."

Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon, a question in his gaze. "Master Qui-Gon took me there quite frequently. I was never sure exactly why."

"Because you enjoyed it, Obi-Wan. Why else?" Qui-Gon's wry grin told its own tale.

Obi-Wan shot back. "Maybe because my Master craved sweets as much as I did."

"Your insight serves you well, my young Padawan." Qui-Gon nodded, conceding defeat.

Obi-Wan snorted at that. "Not so young anymore."

The Jedi Padawan's face was serious, frowning slightly as she watched them both. "But Master, I don't ever remember going to Dex's Diner and we've been together a long time."

Sobering quickly, Obi-Wan nodded. "The diner is gone now. Soon after Master Qui-Gon was dismissed, the Senate decided to raze that area and tore down a number of businesses. I never saw Dex again. I still miss the pies and his wonderful stories. And his connections..."

Qui-Gon frowned at that. Something didn't sound right but the thought soon vanished - no matter, it would return. He leaned forward. "And Astri and Didi? How are they faring?"

"I don't know. They were swept up in the rebuilding as well." Qui-Gon's frown deepened but Obi-Wan had already turned towards Atel, explaining, "Padawan, they were father and daughter, two friends of ours from my young days as a Learner. We had always managed to eat at Didi's Cafe when we were on-planet. Good food - well sometimes good food but definitely amusing company and lots of useful information. Didi had many contacts among the criminals of Coruscant's underbelly. If he couldn't find out what was going on, no one could."

Obi-Wan smile returned. "In fact, Didi and Dex often competed to see who would be first at finding out obscure information. They were both quite good. Unfortunately, Didi was in a bad location, same as Dex. I believe that Didi and Astri moved to the other side of the planet - to start afresh. Unfortunately, I haven't kept up the correspondence. Atel and I were busy with missions, and when I finally had time, they had moved on. I do miss their bickering. It was quite amusing to watch."

Qui-Gon's face sobered. This news was troubling. Two friends of his, two sources of information and both gone soon after he had been dismissed. A coincidence perhaps but he was now wary. There was more going on than was immediately apparent. "That's odd. Did you try to find them once they had moved?"

"Yes, but they had disappeared, same as Dex. The missions soon began to overwhelm what little free time I had and I had to let it go. I'm sorry that I let their friendship lapse. Why? Do you think there was a connection?" Obi-Wan's frown returned as he thought beyond the obvious concerns.

"I'm not sure. Perhaps, but it can wait. We have more immediate things to discuss now that the pie issue has been decided." His words were said with wry humor but reality quickly set in. Time was fast escaping their grasp and they still had much to discuss. As quickly as the ever-changing light of hyperspace pulsed through the portal, Coruscant loomed before them. They had a day, little more.

Obi-Wan nodded solemnly, accepting the advice for what it was. The brief respite was over - no more ignoring the struggle that was to come. Pushing the dishes to one side, he brought out the datapad and began scrolling through the relevant information.

Turning the display so that Qui-Gon could easily read the details, Obi-Wan gestured towards the arrest charges. "I believe that we need to go over the evidence in more detail, Master. There were four areas of concern for the Council. Perhaps, if we went over the documentation, we might be able to make a case for dismissal."

Qui-Gon leaned back, his frown deepening as he watched the slow scroll of circumstantial evidence. Halting the catalog of misdeeds, he said, "I don't think dismissal is possible. Perhaps…."

"Qui-Gon, I am going to help you whether you wish it or not. I'm all ready in enough trouble with the Council that a few more broken rules will not make much difference." It seemed that Obi-Wan was prepared for battle, ready to defend his Master even against himself.

"You mistake me, Padawan," Qui-Gon said. He pointed toward the datapad, one finger tapping on the screen. "On one charge, there can be no dismissal."

When Obi-Wan looked at him in exasperation, Qui-Gon tapped the datapad. "The lightsabers. The Council will not ignore such concrete evidence; they cannot."

"I agree that the saber issue is a large one and the only one with solid evidence. However, it will be difficult to get any of the charges dropped. The Council Members were quite concerned about all of them." Obi-Wan gestured toward the datapad in Qui-Gon's hand. "The ones that worry me the most, however, are the murder allegations and those dealing with misuse of power."

Qui-Gon shook his head, looking at both Jedi with puzzled eyes. "Those charges have me baffled. I haven't murdered anyone. What evidence do you have that indicates my involvement in this?"

A soft grunt and Obi-Wan pointed again at the datapad. "Electronic data only at this point." He gestured toward his silent Padawan. "Atel was able to find this information only by digging deeply into both the Telosian and Naboo databanks."

Both men turned toward her. It was clear from her narrowed eyes and flat mouth that she didn't approve of the way Obi-Wan was acting toward him. Qui-Gon was a potential felon after all, and in the past, Jedi certainly were not allowed to share evidence about a mission with non-Jedi, especially with the accused. He was sure the rules had tightened over the years. She probably thought that Obi-Wan was being supremely foolish in helping him, throwing his career away with every sympathetic word.

But unhappy or not, she replied, "As Master Obi-Wan indicated, the information was difficult to find. I had to follow several leads and they were all layered with thick shields of coded protection. Your financial reports of the last six months were quite specific however - listing the Telosian mines bought. From there, it was a relatively simple matter to backtrack to the security reports on the murdered men."

"The information was quite extensive and fairly complete." Obi-Wan nodded his thanks to her.

"But I haven't murdered anyone," Qui-Gon insisted, bewildered by the accusations. He looked from Obi-Wan to Atel. "Is there any other evidence of this? Electronic evidence alone does not warrant arrest or imprisonment. There must be some concrete proof."

Obi-Wan was quick to agree. "The Council members were quite adamant that we return with you to Coruscant, with or without additional information. I had hoped that we would be able to interview some of the witnesses ourselves or have some Jedi stationed near Telos do it when time permitted. But Master Tharten..."

That name did not bode well. Qui-Gon's voice was sharp, pointed as he asked, "Sera Tharten?"

Both Jedi looked startled at the vehemence. Obi-Wan answered with a question of his own. "Yes, Master. Do you know her?"

Nodding, his face tightened with remembrance; Qui-Gon knew her quite well. Half-whispering, he replied, "So, the rumors are true after all. She is on the Jedi Council."

He said nothing else for a few seconds, trying to collect his thoughts. But he knew he could no longer ignore the past. It might be important. "Sera Tharten had always been ambitious, always had to be the best at everything. Yes, I knew her. She and Xan..." He stopped for a moment, the icy pain of long-ago failure skittering across his shoulders. "They were very good friends, Obi-Wan. When I returned from Telos after that fateful mission, she accused me of abandoning Xanatos and making up lies to cover my own transgressions. For several years, she went out of her way to spread rumors among the Padawans about my failings. Unfortunately, some were true and many in her Clan believed all the rest." Looking away, his mouth flattened in remembered anger. "When I took you as Padawan, then-Knight Tharten went so far as to try and get it rescinded. Claimed that I was a monster that would ruin a child." He shrugged, trying to release the anxiety that crept into his skin. "She bears me no good will."

"Do you think it will be a problem?"

Thinking about the past and Tharten's hatred, Qui-Gon knew it would indeed be a problem, especially if she had influence over the rest of the Council. Shoving aside the remains of the meal, he got up and stood by the viewport. In the reflection, he looked old and worn, the long harsh years etched into his face.

Qui-Gon couldn't avoid the question, however. "Perhaps. I've heard only rumors and second-hand accounts, nothing substantial. Who else is on the Council?"

Atel squirmed a bit in her seat. She shot Obi-Wan a pointed look, one that spoke of silences and Jedi business and missions where information was _not_ shared with the guilty.

Obi-Wan ignored her, saying instead, "There are nine members now."

The unexpected answer did not please Qui-Gon. "Not twelve? There have always been twelve."

The Jedi spread his hands in helpless denial. "The Senate saw fit to reduce the number of Councilors. Said it made it easier to come to a consensus with fewer voices, faster and more efficient."

"Nice of them to be so concerned." The sarcasm in Qui-Gon's voice was unmistakable.

It would appear that Obi-Wan was not happy about the changes either. "Yes, very." Obi-Wan continued, "Master Tharten is the head of the..."

"Master, please don't. Master Jinn is not a member of the Jedi Order and any information about the workings of the Council is restricted." The chilling stare that Obi-Wan sent her way should have kept her silent but she ignored it. "It is against policy to share this with non-Jedi and you know it. Please don't make things worse that they already are."

"I will do what I think is right, Padawan. It is not for you to criticize my judgment in this."

Her darkened eyes bore into his for a moment, then the cool chastened reply, "Yes, Master."

Obi-Wan sent her another stern look before he continued, "In addition to being head of the Council, Master Tharten is in charge of Temple Regulation Control and wrote the current _Rules of Behavior_. She has much influence, both on the Council and among the current Jedi population."

"Ah, yes." Qui-Gon nodded. "She would have risen quickly with her ambition. Who else?"

"Master Veendo, a Rodian, is head of the Sedition Activity Investigations. He uses his influence to keep control of what is said and not said among the remaining Jedi. The younger ones think nothing of it. The older Jedi are not so happy with this turn of events but seem helpless to stop him at the moment. There has been some talk about ousting him and his department but little has been done."

With a thoughtful frown, Qui-Gon looked out into hyperspace. "Master Veendo... I didn't know him well. I seem to recall that he and Master Tharten were often paired on missions but little else."

Obi-Wan nodded and continued, "Master Trest Sle'fey, another Senior Member, heads the Committee for Jedi Missions. I recall that he and Master Tharten used to argue quite frequently, but in the last few years, he has almost always sided with her decisions."

Folding his arms, staring off into space, Qui-Gon was growing more concerned by the moment. "So he made it onto the Council as well." He murmured, "I knew him as a boy. His Master, Anet 'Ta, and I had been rivals in our youth and we often disagreed on methods, actions, almost everything. That enmity followed into adulthood. Master 'Ta and I could work together but it was never comfortable."

His thoughts turned inward, remembering the past. Even now, it was coming back to haunt him. "The Setlos incident was the final breaking point between us. Not surprisingly, the Council listened to his voice over mine and I was censured due in part to his mission notes." He looked back toward Obi-Wan. "Padawan Sle'fey blamed me for his Master's injuries. He did have a point. I had been less than mindful and 'Ta paid the price for my mistakes. But from that moment on, he considered me his adversary."

Qui-Gon shrugged again. "Sle'fey went on to a brilliant career, mostly in the diplomatic arena. I've had little contact with him since. I admit it was a bit of a relief."

Obi-Wan pushed back the table and moved to stand next to him, lending support with his very presence. Gently berating Qui-Gon, he said, "Perhaps you should choose your enemies with more care. This is not promising."

But Obi-Wan's small attempt at humor fell flat. There was too much truth in it.

"I will remember that next time, my ever-prudent Padawan." Qui-Gon sent him a fleeting grin.

"See that you do." Obi-Wan shot back. "Next is Master Rangt Nunb, a Sullustan. He is in charge of the Office of Dismissals and Expulsions and also co-chairs of the Hunters' Group. That is the organization which pursues so-called Rogue Force-users. He will be especially concerned about your Bendu Philosophical Group."

Qui-Gon nodded. "Master Nunb was always one for the hunt. He was a bully when young. Apparently, he has channeled his talents into more productive pursuits since then. Or maybe not. He was another of Xanatos's close friends, and like Tharten, blamed me for Xan's fall. He didn't go as far as she had but it was clear that he held me in some enmity."

Obi-Wan looked quite concerned at this newest revelation. "This is not looking good for your case. With such history, the Council may choose not to listen to you at all."

"Padawan, do not center on your fears. I believe the Force is guiding me in this. Perhaps some of the other Councilors would be more sympathetic..."

"Not likely." Obi-Wan shook his head. "Master Zak Xacor is Security Team Leader for the Jedi Order and co-chairs with Master Nunb for the Hunter's Group. He oversees all aspects of Security, from casual visitors to vidfeeds of the hallways. He is also in charge of guarding the Supreme Chancellor when he is on Coruscant."

"I know him only by reputation and that some years old. Does he seem like a fair man?"

"It was not for me to judge but he is a friend of Master Tharten's. He sides with her most of the time... unless it impedes his duty. And even then..."

Obi-Wan turned to lean against the bulkhead and folded his arms. For a moment, he said nothing but he looked concerned.

It appeared that the power balance of the Council had shifted after the first of the dismissals, skewing more and more towards regressive and restrictive control of the Jedi Order. Now from what Obi-Wan had said, the impact of that balance was glaring and real.

There was something very wrong with the Jedi. But there was nothing to be done, at least not at the moment.

Qui-Gon gently nudged his former Padawan back to the present. "Who else?"

"Those five Masters are the guiding authorities in the Council. All major policy and anything that might affect the Order, to the smallest detail, comes directly from the Senior Members. And they are quite influential."

He continued, "The other four Councilors are relatively new. They were all appointed within the last several months and haven't had the impact of the more Senior Members. Master A'Ala-Tanze is Head of Indoctrination which includes all education departments. Master Tharten used to occupy that position but was encouraged to move up by the Senate Representative. Knight Tion Medza is in charge of Procurement and Disposal. Master Holu TaKet heads Information Resources - commonly referred to among the lesser beings as "Espionage Services". And Knight NeTa Phen is in charge of Human Resources and the Healer's Ward."

"I am not familiar with them."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I didn't think you would, Master. They are relatively young. Frankly, I'm still unsure why they were even chosen to sit on the Council. More petty minds might think that they bribed their way on. I just don't know."

Qui-Gon smiled, chiding him gently. "It will be all right, Padawan. I'm certain that the Force is guiding us in this course."

The younger man merely nodded. "I hope you are right."


	30. Chapter 17: Old friends part 2

**Chapter 17: ****Old friends, older enemies**

**Part 2**

From across the room, Atel watched them both with some dismay. Their quiet analysis of evidence had morphed quickly into an examination of the strengths and purported failings of the Jedi Council. She was unhappy with this. It was against _the Rules of Behavior_ after all. But something even more disturbing was becoming very clear.

She knew that Master Obi-Wan and this Jinn had once been a powerful working team. But even after all the years, when distance and time should have put an insurmountable barrier between them, there was none. They seemed to know instinctively what the other would say even when they disagreed. Their discussions, the way they approached each other when speaking of difficult things, their natural empathy spoke of a deep and ongoing connection.

It hurt her to admit it but her Master and Jinn seemed to belong together - more so than she did. She knew that Master Obi-Wan listened to her concerns, answered her questions; he always had. But even throughout their own decade-long Master/Padawan relationship, he had never seemed to accept her words quite so quickly as this rogue's.

Biting on her lip, she looked down, frowning at her hands. She didn't like it at all. She felt removed and abandoned - and jealous of the Bendu. It wasn't a comfortable emotion and certainly not acceptable to a Jedi Padawan. She should be above such things but the feeling persisted, seemed to grow the more she suppressed it. She realized that it would have to be dealt with quickly. Jealousy would impede her perceptions of the situation, perhaps drive her Master further away. She would need all her strength in the coming trials.

Yet to be honest, she wasn't sure if it was mere jealousy that drove her to question and berate her Master or if something in the Force urged her to caution. His actions of the past few days had certainly irked and infuriated her. But she could almost understand his need to connect with his former Master. Almost...

A small movement caught her eye. The rogue was admonishing Master Obi-Wan, telling him not to center on his anxieties, to 'Live in the Moment'.

She grimaced. It seemed to be Jinn's answer to everything. As the pair continued to discuss the Jedi Council, she sunk back down into her thoughts.

Atel had never heard her Master talk this way in recent memory. Within the Temple confines, he had always defended the Council, explaining their inner workings, making excuses when it seemed that their instructions were inane or potentially destructive. And outside of the walls, discussion of the Order, especially with non-Jedi, was not permitted. She had no idea that he felt so strongly about it. It seemed almost as if the underlying bitterness had been shoved down, layered in tight shields of half-truth and shame, and only now was allowed to bubble to the surface.

She realized that the loss of Master Jinn at a crucial time in Obi-Wan's life must have made a marked impression on his views of the Jedi Order. But like it or not, his actions now would affect his standing with the Jedi and the Council. He needed to be very careful. Otherwise, his actions could hurt him and any case he might make for Jinn would be suspect. The Council would certainly not be forgiving of rule-breaking, not on this mission.

"Padawan, are you in there?" Master Obi-Wan's gentle question startled her out of her reverie.

Blinking, she looked up to see both men gazing at her, her Master's eyes gleaming with the barest hint of amusement. Shamefaced, she shook her head. She had not heard the last few moments of discussion. "Sorry, Master. I was just thinking."

"Anything I should know about?" He looked at her closely, the amusement now gone, the concern beginning to creep into his face as he studied her.

"No, Master. It was nothing." She certainly was not going to tell him anything with Jinn staring at her. Definitely not. She did not need another argument, not now.

"Nothing?" With a quick shake of her head, he let the subject drop for the moment. "We were just about to go over the evidence that you had uncovered." When she remained silent, he added, "The murders, Atel."

She gestured to the datapad, still lying discarded on the table. "Yes, Master. I have the information right here."

Obi-Wan glanced at Qui-Gon and then moved back, settling down on the bed and across from his Padawan. Without a word, Atel began to gather up the remains of the meal, the clattering dishes a sharp counterpoint to the quiet study in his eyes. Avoiding his gaze, she bustled about, busy with cups and plates. Her face gave nothing away as she cleared off the small table. Lifting the tray, now filled with dirty crockery, she opened the door and left it outside; the droids would whisk it away in time.

Moving about the cabin, she began to straighten up, pulling the bed linens taut, brushing off a speck of dust from a gleaming surface. She was aware of her Master's unspoken concern but chose to ignore it. The revelations of the past few minutes had disturbed her more than she realized.

She had hoped that Obi-Wan would wake up to the realities of the situation before this. Even the rogue understood the problems.

She had promised to help, yes, but not at the expense of violating the very rules she had sworn to uphold.

Why couldn't her Master understand it? There was _helping_ and then there was foolishness. An open exchange of information, an infraction of the _Rules of Behavior_ would not go unnoticed by the Council. Instead, it would lead them all down the road to ruination if they were not careful.

So caught up with her own fears, she hadn't heard her Master call out to her. It was only when she stepped past him that he was able to get her attention. Pulling at her sleeve, he said, "Atel, please sit. We need your input on this matter."

"Yes, Master." Her reply was half-hearted at best. With a lightening-swift glance at the rogue, she sighed and sat down at the table, opposite Obi-Wan. Schooling her features into neutrality, she stilled and waited in silence.

After staring at her for a long moment, he nodded and turned toward Jinn. It was apparent that he was not going to press her for answers. They both knew it was not the time for confrontations.

Obi-Wan pointed to the datapad, "Master, as I indicated earlier, your own tax records provided the first clue to the murders. In the last year, the audits show that you purchased four mines from Offworld," he hesitated, saying, "while you were on Telos. And you personally had a hand in negotiating with the mine owners."

Jinn stiffened, standing there with his unease stark in the rigid stance and clouded eyes. Finally, shaking his head as he leaned back against the bulkhead, he said slowly, "Mace said that you had questioned him about Telos. That you said I had gone back to that place. I don't understand this. I haven't been there in decades, not since Xan... Xanatos died."

Obi-Wan nodded. "I didn't think that you had. But there is unambiguous proof that you used your ship to travel there recently." His finger tapped the datapad gently. "The Naboo shipping records as well as the Republic documents show the arrival and departure of your ship, _Serenity_, from that planet at the time of the murders. You were listed on the manifest as owner/pilot."

Twisting, shrugging one shoulder, Qui-Gon said, "It's not possible. I swore I'd never go back to that place and I haven't in all these years. Someone is trying to discredit me." Looking out into the vastness of hyperspace, the random flashes of light sharpening the worn lines of his face, he murmured, "Quite effectively it would seem."

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "I agree. But why?"

Still frowning, Qui-Gon lifted one hand in dismissal. "Any number of reasons. I have made a few enemies in my time."

Her Master gave a soft humph at that. "Yes, Master. Especially among the Jedi."

Folding his arms, leaning stiffly into the bulkhead, the Bendu looked away for a moment. "I have also been less than welcome elsewhere. The Jedi merely head a long list." Glancing at Master Obi-Wan, he said slowly, "What other evidence is there for these murders?"

Obi-Wan continued the litany of allegations, his dry tone at war with the disquiet on his face. "The security records on Telos state that your company acquired the mines under very suspicious circumstances. The mine owner, a secondary partner in the Offworld Consortium, turned you down when you initially tried to buy the mine. The offer for the property in question was at less than market value and you were flatly refused. The owner then filed complaints with the Telosian Security Forces, stating that a former Jedi, one Qui-Gon Jinn, was trying to force him to sell by threatening him and his family and with mind tricks. However the following day, the man rescinded the complaint, welcoming you with open arms and selling you the mine at your initial price. The abrupt change in the seller's attitude was clearly marked and there was mutterings of Force manipulation in the later investigations." Obi-Wan gestured toward the datapad again. "The records are considered tamper-proof so these depositions would stand up in a court-of-law."

"The accusations are based on electronic evidence alone." When Obi-Wan acknowledged this with a sharp nod, the Bendu thought for a moment, "And the murders?"

Reluctantly, glancing first at Atel and then back to his old Master, Obi-Wan replied, "Sometime after that, the owner disappeared."

Qui-Gon frowned at this news. "No trace?"

Obi-Wan stood up. Moving to stand next to the viewport, Obi-Wan said, "Eventually, the mine owner was found." He paused, "Tourists visiting Telos came across his remains when they were hiking in the area. Your name was prominently mentioned as a possible suspect but there wasn't enough evidence for extradition. The furor died down in time."

"But you said murders, as in more than one..."

"The records show that you returned to Telos three more times. And the same scenario was repeated - again and again. In all, four mine owners have died in the last year and your name was linked to every one of them. After each occurrence, when the Security Forces investigated, they found the bodies at the same location."

"Where?" Suddenly, Jinn looked ill.

"Master, they were found by the Sacred Pools."

The Bendu drew in a sharp hiss of breath, his low voice sickened with sorrow. "Sacred... the place where Xanatos ended his life?"

Obi-Wan's eyes shifted abruptly grey and he seemed full of painful memories. Nodding slowly, he said, "The very spot. Apparently, there was little left. The acid in the pools had almost completely disintegrated their bodies - only small bits of bone and teeth could be used in identification."

"This happened more than once." It was not a question.

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan nodded.

Jinn folded his arms tightly about him, the unconscious gesture speaking more of his upset than any words. Blinking hard, he muttered, "Someone must hate me very much to do this."

Obi-Wan frowned at that, "Planting evidence so that you would be blamed? It is certainly effective."

Shaking his head, Jinn stiffened. "No, not just that. They chose the one place that would have meaning for me, the one place that I still remember with shame."

"I'm sorry, Qui-Gon." When he said nothing more, just stood there with arms clasped and rigid and so distant, Obi-Wan insisted, "We will find out who did this, I swear it."

The older man nodded once. "Who knew about the Sacred Pools?"

"The Council members of the previous regime would certainly know. We gave them a full report after we returned from Telos."

"Most of them are dead or have joined the Bendu. They would have no reason for this." Jinn still sounded upset.

"I realize that, Master. However, I remember that the rumors flew through the Temple when we came back. My friends seemed to know all about it." Obi-Wan paused, "When they questioned me about my involvement, I gave only generalities, no specifics. Only that Xanatos had died on Telos by his own hand, nothing more." Thinking back, he said, "It was odd that they would have known anything. The records were sealed and I certainly didn't tell them. But then the furor over the whole affair died down rather quickly."

"And yet Xanatos and the Sacred Pools have come back to haunt me with false accusations." The Bendu's voice was sharp; the pain of old memories still lingered in the air.

Her Master's eyes greyed into confusion. "Before this mission, if asked, I would have said that no one even remembered his name or that he turned and was killed on Telos. It was only important to a chosen few and it was so long ago."

Jinn pointed out, "But it is important now."

Nodding, Obi-Wan considered the possibilities. "The current Council would have access to the files. In fact, Master Sle'fey included it in our mission update. My Padawan has the information."

Both men turned toward her. She had been listening, a bit confused, her eyes flicking from one man to the other. She had not wanted to interrupt while they talked about du Crion but their riddle was no mystery to her.

"Master, I knew about du Crion before the mission. You are talking about Master Jinn's old Padawan, Xanatos du Crion?" She hesitated, knowing that her Master would not be pleased. She didn't need any more animosity between them but he had a right to know.

"Yes. How do you know about him?" Obi-Wan sounded impatient.

She shrank inward. She knew the information would not be well-received but it needed to be said. "It's common knowledge, Master. We studied his case in our Padawan Rights Seminar series."

"What are you talking about, Atel?" Her Master's voice was sharp as shattered glass.

Taking a moment to center herself, she focused on her Master, ignoring the startled rogue, and attempted to tell the tale dispassionately. Perhaps it was important after all. "Last year, I was required to take the course work for Senior Padawan level 3. The Rights series was included in that. The du Crion case is used as an example of what rights a Padawan has when their Masters behave in a manner unbefitting a Jedi."

"A manner unbefitting…."

She fought hard not to look at Jinn. "Yes, Master. According to the case study, Padawan du Crion was harassed mercilessly and driven from the Temple by your old Master. The research showed that former Master Qui-Gon Jinn used mind control and physical abuse to demoralize him, warping du Crion's mental state to the point that he could no longer function as a Jedi. Ultimately, Padawan du Crion abandoned the Jedi Order to flee the mistreatment. Master Jinn then falsified the records to indicate that he had turned."

There was stunned silence.


	31. Chapter 18: Suspicion part 1

**Chapter 18: Suspicion**

**Part 1**

Shock filled the air, an astonished stillness.

Qui-Gon turned grey, the unjust accusation sharpening the taut lines in his face and the stark tremble in his hands. His arms tightly wound about his chest, hooded eyes deepening into indigo and black, he looked away, far out into the eternal night.

Obi-Wan felt ill. Her lies, the things she believed, had only made things worse. He glanced at his old Master, wishing he could say something to soften the blow but Qui-Gon just stood there, silent.

Her revelations seemed almost farcical, the lies she had been taught so inventive that Obi-Wan was rendered speechless. At last, gathering his wits as he tried to cut through the confusion, Obi-Wan looked at Atel, with a voice calm and cuttingly iced, said, "Who told you that?"

Her eyes, wide with trepidation, flicked quickly toward Qui-Gon and returned to meet the hardened scowl of her unhappy Master. She murmured, "My instructor, Master Tse'et'a. She had us read all about it. The information was in the course work database and the ancillary notes as well, Master."

Atel had barely finished when Obi-Wan moved quickly to her side and stood there, towering over her. His eyes boring down into hers, he thundered back, "Did you think to question me about it?"

She must have realized that he was furious with her. She cringed slightly, stammering, "I...I…."

Leaning forward then, glaring at his apprentice, his deepening frown told the tale of banked anger and frost. The very air seemed to cool. "After all, I knew both Padawan du Crion and Master Jinn quite well. I might have some insight into that filth you were studying."

"Master, please..." Her pleading voice held only stark dismay.

He drew back, his arms drawn in tightly about his chest, an impenetrable barricade against this newest discovery. His eyes were as hard as durasteel. "But you never came to me with any questions, never mentioned this at all." He looked down at her. Atel sat there silently, no explanations about why she had hidden this for so long, nothing to alleviate the growing sense of profound loss. It hurt to think that she could not come to him with her concerns. That ache bled into his voice. "I thought we could trust one another. We should have been able to talk about anything. Was I mistaken?"

"No, Master!"

His mouth tightened as he pressed the point. "Why then am I learning about this only now? And what else have you been hiding from me?"

"It wasn't like that." Her hands reached out for him, gripping his arm, trying to explain. "I wanted... I wanted to save you pain. I knew that you hated..." She stopped abruptly, looking at Qui-Gon staring back at her.

She stopped abruptly, her eyes narrowing. She must have realized that Qui-Gon could hear every word. Instead, she sent frantic thoughts rocketing through the muddied currents of the Force. /_Please, Master, not here. Not now. Not with him listening._/

But Obi-Wan shook his head, stepping back out of her reach. His hand sweeping toward the Bendu, he snapped, "Yes, Atel, here and now."

As she shook her head in disbelief, he said, "This affects Master Jinn as well." He straightened then, staring at her with determined eyes. "Now, my Padawan Learner, I want to hear why you couldn't trust me with your concerns."

"It wasn't like that at all. I did trust you. I do trust you."

"Apparently not if I am finding out about this now. I want the truth, Padawan." He said nothing else, just stood there in stony silence, waiting for her reply.

She drew one ragged breath. Her eyes darting between Obi-Wan to Qui-Gon, her hands twisting in dismay, she must have realized that he would accept nothing less than the truth.

Gathering her resolve, she spoke urgently, "I'm sorry, Master, but, at the time, I thought that you hated Master Jinn." When his face tightened once again in denial, she said, pleading, "What else was I to think? You never talked about him. _Ever_!"

She stopped, glancing quickly at Qui-Gon, then hurried on, determined to finish. "Until this mission, I had no idea that you felt anything toward him, anything at all - except for anger and contempt. How could I when you never spoke his name? I thought it was because you were ashamed to be his apprentice. That he hurt you."

She stopped for a moment, obviously gathering her resolve, and said, "I knew he must have hurt you somehow. When I learned about du Crion, it all made sense - the pain in your eyes at times, the way you avoided certain subjects. I thought that's what you wanted, to forget it all and be better than him."

"Atel, they've been lying to you. Qui-Gon would never do such a thing. I told you no." He still couldn't believe that she would accept such filth.

She was just as adamant. "You must be mistaken. The Jedi do not lie. You know that." She reached out for him, grabbing onto his tunic sleeve, her fist tangling in the frayed cloth. "Master, you need to see clearly in this. I know now that you missed him and he seems sincere. For the moment." Her eyes hardened, brown growing into black as she stared into Obi-Wan's furious scowl. "But maybe he's just learned to hide things better since du Crion. Perhaps he was more subtle in his manipulations."

Qui-Gon was staring at Atel with unblinking eyes. Impassive except for the small movement of jaw that spoke of shadowed emotion, anger or possibly grief, he said not a word.

She was pulling at Obi-Wan, twisting the shredding cloth of his tunic under her fingertips. "He could have... he could have lied to you about it all. You couldn't have been old enough to remember the scandal clearly. He may have used mind control on you as well, especially if he started when you were young. Look how long it took for him to accept you as apprentice. And you said you were desperate to be a Knight. Perhaps you'd believe anything he'd say... especially when you were so vulnerable."

"Atel..." Obi-Wan's voice grew frigid with indignation. He took a deep breath to try and ward off the anger now stirring in his blood but her words only continued to infuriate him.

For a heartbeat, her dark eyes skated over the impassive Qui-Gon. Turning back to Obi-Wan, she said, "He was adept then at manipulation and mind control. The records show it clearly. He would have gotten better with practice and time. He could be manipulating you even now."

"That is absurd." He tried to pull away but her hands, stark with whitened bone and sinew, held him fast.

Atel's voice was harsh, the sound strident in condemnation. "Is it? I've watched how you've changed in the last few days. We never argued before, not like this. Not until we came here." An abrupt nod toward Jinn and she spat out, "You think he's so wonderful with his happy stories about your past. But he was thrown out for a reason. He turned rogue. You just refuse to see it."

"Atel, I was there. You're wrong."

She looked as if her heart was breaking. "Am I? Why didn't he come back for you then? He never tried to contact you or see or find out how you were. A Master, a good one, would do that. Instead he took off and never looked back. How can you defend him like that?"

"Padawan, that's enough." He was growing more furious by the moment.

She blinked rapidly, watching his face as she muttered, "In a way, I'm glad we're here. Now you'll find out just how much he's deceived you and then you can go back to the Jedi where you belong."

"Enough!" As he pulled away from her grasp, his disgust was sharp in the sullen air.

The silence that followed found the pair staring dumbfounded at each other. Obi-Wan was furious with his Learner, his mouth half-open with astonishment, deeply troubled that she had believed the vile things she said.

But instead of remorse, Atel looked relieved. It was clear that she thought they would go back to the way they were, to get on with their lives, both of them growing together in the Force. She could not be more wrong.

Qui-Gon spoke gently, "Obi-Wan, perhaps..."

But he just shook his head. "No, Master, please don't interfere. It would seem that my Padawan Learner and I have more to discuss than I had realized."

Obi-Wan knew that he must right this somehow. Drawing his shoulders back, head held high, he closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, then another, centering himself. He knew that he had let his apprentice direct the confrontation, allowing the emotions of the moment to fracture the serenity that he would need in the coming days. He must regain his mind's quiet for all their sakes.

The anger eased as he drew in yet another breath. Looking once more at his troubled Learner, he spoke softly, "Atel, I want you to listen to me very carefully. You must hear my words with an open mind and heart. Can you do that?"

"Yes, Master," she said softly.

"Padawan, each day, each moment is made of choices. Where to go, what to say, when to seek the guidance of the Force and when to ignore the guidance of those around you. Our choices will define who and what we are." Looking at Qui-Gon for a flash of acknowledgment, he turned back toward Atel. "Apparently, my choices in the past few years have confused you. Perhaps my teaching skills leave much to be desired." As she started to protect, he held up one hand. "Please, let me finish."

As she nodded, he glanced at Qui-Gon. "It is true that I never spoke of my Master. The memory of what the Jedi Order did to him shamed me."

Obi-Wan turned inward then, remembering the aching bewilderment when Qui-Gon was forced to leave the Temple - the lonely days, the nights filled with silence and cold emptiness. False whispers of wrong-doing and the ricocheting rumors of others tossed aside in the first great purge of the Order deepened his sorrow. Only his meditations, delving into the infinite comforting wellspring of the Force, gave him solace. He still could not comprehend how they could toss aside such a great man for mere money.

Shaking himself free of the bitter memories, he murmured, "Their punishment of my efforts to find him only drove the shame and anger deeper. So deep in fact that it prevented me from dealing with it."

He looked down at his young apprentice. In her huge eyes and set mouth, some unknowing emotion, heartache or regret, seemed to shimmer in the depths. He tried to see past it, to understand her heart; he needed to make her see the truth of his past, of their past together. Sending her an almost-smile, he reached into his memories and gave them to her. "When you were assigned to me, I was glad. I knew that I could put all of my Master's teachings to good use. But by then, things had started to change with the Jedi and not for the better." He shrugged some of the old pain away. The deepest ache would never leave. "I tried to shield you as best I could, keeping my own hurt away so that you could learn free of the taint and betrayal that I felt. I learned to cope, to find joy in doing the work of a Jedi Knight... when I was permitted to do so."

His face sobered, "Apparently, I was mistaken. I should never have allowed the truth to hide behind my own pain."

Atel shook her head. "Master, I'm sorry. I didn't realize that you felt this way. How was I to know?" A brief moment of thought and she said, not ungently, "But, Master Obi-Wan, how does that explain about the things I've learned in the Temple? Surely, my teachers were telling the truth about him."

"I've known him for many years. And I trust him with my life." He frowned again, his voice hardening. "You have accused him of mind manipulation. And you seem to think that I am so vulnerable that he could abuse me with my unspoken consent. Do you really think that I am weak-minded enough that I would allow this?"

Her eyes grew wide with realization. She must have finally understood the implications. "No, Master, of course not. But... if he started on you when you were young, you would never realize it until it was too late."

He shifted back slightly, frowning at her insinuation. "Atel, I've known Qui-Gon for many years. It is just not possible." The anger was still there, just roiling beneath the surface. He needed to get past it, somehow. "But you've been around Master Jinn for several days. Have you detected any taint of Darkness about him?"

"I'm... I'm not sure. He seems sincere and he did help us with Skywalker. For your sake, I did try to ignore my doubts, truly I did." For a brief instant, her eyes flicked to the silent rogue. Then deliberately turning away, she countered with the obvious conclusion. "But he's a criminal. He has freely admitted it and we have solid evidence with us. One that you must admit is proof of wrong-doing. As for the mind manipulation, there were four cases of men, murdered. And they accused him of mind control before they died. Master Jinn is a powerful Force-user, one of the best the Order ever saw. How can I not believe what my teachers at the Temple have said?"

He closed his eyes, suddenly weary of it all. "Are you questioning my judgment?"

"No, Master! But he's still here. He could be manipulating you even now."

"Enough, Atel, enough. If you cannot... if you feel that you cannot trust my judgment in this, I don't know what else to do. How can I guide you on your journey toward Knighthood if you do not trust me?"

"I do trust you, Master! It's him I don't believe."

But there had been too much argument, more than enough. He stared at her, his stern look of determination boring down on his young Learner. It was time for closure, time for an end to this discord. "Then belief or not, you must obey my commands. It is your duty as my Padawan Learner."

There was durasteel in his voice. She must have known that he would not listen further no matter how much she protested. She bowed her head, murmuring, "Yes, Master."

He gestured toward the still-silent Bendu. "You have given your word to help Master Jinn with his case." Folding his arms, resolute admonition in his eyes, he reminded her, "I expect you to do no less than your best in this matter."

Her nod was all that he needed. Obi-Wan said sharply, "Good, then I suggest we begin again."

"I... I request that I be allowed a brief time for meditation. I have much to think on." Looking toward the door, she said, "I noticed that this ship has a small arboretum. I would like to have a few moments alone... with your permission."

Obi-Wan nodded. He realized that they both needed space after the hurtful revelations of this past hour. "Take all the time you need, Padawan. We will continue here until your return."

Getting up, she bowed slightly, "Thank you, Master. I won't be long."


	32. Chapter 18: Suspicion part 2

**Chapter 18 – Suspicion**

**Part 2**

The silence that fell once the door hissed shut was short-lived.

For a moment, he could not look at Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan knew he needed to face his own demons; the fury of the argument was still lingering behind his eyes and there was the despair of knowing how much he'd failed Atel.

"That was ill-done, Obi-Wan. She was only trying to protect you." The low rumble of Qui-Gon's voice, once so soothing, was grating in its disapproval.

"I know."

But Qui-Gon could not let this alone. "Why did she make you so upset? Was it because of the lies she believes or because of her own truth that you find so hard to accept?"

Looking away, Obi-Wan's throat closed into sorrow. He had tried so hard to do what he thought was right but the mistakes of long-ago had turned on him. He should have sought the Force's guidance more; perhaps, the guidance of others might have helped but there had been so few that he could trust when the first wave of dismissals had left the Temple. Now he realized that he had lost something elusive and he wasn't sure how to recapture it.

Obi-Wan swallowed hard. "She's right, you know. About not saying anything. I should have been more open about all of this. Years ago. I've failed her."

"You did what you thought was right."

Obi-Wan just shook his head. "I'm not so sure. I should have been more mindful. But all I did was shield her from the reality of the Order and allow the lies to grow. I've done her a great disservice."

Qui-Gon pointed out, "It's not too late."

"Perhaps. But the Council wants her to be knighted soon." Obi-Wan looked past his old Master to the ethereal light beyond.

"She's not ready." It was the obvious conclusion in a day of truths and half-truths.

Obi-Wan brushed his face with his hand, trying to will away the sudden pain there scrabbling just behind his eyes. He knew that Atel needed further training. This mission was key in pointing out the flaws of both Master and Apprentice. Her pressing need to learn compassion and justice loomed large and there was no time. "No, she is not. But when did that ever stop them?" He shrugged again as the reality of the Jedi Order became clear. "Training costs money."

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan, for many things."

Obi-Wan accepted the sorrow and made it his own. "Thank you. It does help that you understand just what is going on at the Temple. Perhaps, you should have run after all."

"Padawan..." The gentle reproof was all that needed to be said.

His jibe at Qui-Gon's stubbornness was born more of frustration than any real attempt at changing his mind. And they could not turn back now. The game was set and they must play their part. "No matter. At least we know about something more of what has been happening at the Temple."

Obi-Wan's frown deepened, the headache intensifying with each moment. "I never realized that the Jedi would say such lies about people they'd forced out. It just doesn't make sense." Trying to will away the pain, he murmured, "Qui-Gon, the lies she's been taught - it feels almost like revenge. A Jedi does not seek revenge."

Qui-Gon just nodded. "No, not a Jedi in the path of Light."

"Then who could it be?" The question seemed to linger in the sullen air.

"I do not know."

* * *

The false sound of bird-call echoed in the moist greenery of the arboretum. Atel recognized the trill of an Alderaan firebird, its lively notes pure and clear, its heart pouring out in song. But underneath all the joyous melody was the lie. It was merely a recording - a deception to make one think that what they had heard was reality when it was really only distorted noise.

Atel tried to shrug away the tension in her shoulders. Leaning back, breathing in the humidity and fresh tang of life, the deep richness of soil, the scent of blossom, she should have allowed her mind to empty so that the Force could fill it with serenity. That is what a Padawan was expected to do - let the Force flow through her and give her clarity and peace. But instead she sat there, surrounded by beauty and life and song, letting the circling questions drive her mad.

_Is that what was going on here? Is it truth or deception? And just who is the prey in this web of lies?_ She shook her head. Confused and concerned, she realized that no matter where she turned, there was only deceit.

She knew that Master Obi-Wan believed in the Bendu rogue, believed everything he said without question. But was he being foolish or wise in that belief? He had known him for years, had a long and apparently warm relationship for the most part. Could it be possible that he knew his old Master well enough for that much trust?

And yet Atel trusted her Master with everything that she was. He had helped her over the years and been there to guard her back, soothe her fears, made her face the anxieties of a Jedi's life. He was completely trustworthy - she hoped.

But and but and but. He hadn't told her about Jinn. He didn't mention anything of what had gone on before. Was that a kind of lie? Or was it just a way for him to protect a precious memory - that by not sharing, he was preserving the last remnants of his old life and the love of a son for a surrogate father?

More importantly, how was she to know?

There were certainly inconsistencies in the history she had been taught. She knew that Master Obi-Wan had not really been mind-tricked as she had suggested. There would have been signs of contradiction in his behavior - unless the mind had been so warped that he had ingrained it into his psyche.

No, she could not believe that. He was too strong.

As for Master Jinn, she had not really felt any true deception. Oh, he had secrets - how could he not under the circumstances? But he had been fairly straightforward, and in the battle between that idiot Skywalker and her Master, he had been pivotal in bringing the apprentice down. That was one fact she could rely on - unless, of course, it was all some elaborate ruse.

Wheels within wheels within wheels and all were grinding away at the serenity that continued to slip through her fingers.

Atel's thoughts came to the inevitable conclusion. _Enough of this! Enough! I must believe in Master Obi-Wan as he has always believed in me._ She would obey and trust her Master. There was no other option.

Drawing in a deep breath, Atel centered herself. With that decision came a calm serenity that indicated she was on the right path. Now she sunk into the well-spring of meditation and embraced the Force in all its infinity beauty and light.

_At first, the currents of the Force surrounded her, dipping, flowing, caressing her inner being with a depth that was impossible to describe in mere words. She could feel the gleam and almost tangible flow of the greenery surrounding her in all its vibrant life almost as if she were tasting the sweet nectar of existence. It began to slow, curling around her with a gentle touch, and then to pool at her feet in a great liquid lake of crystal blue, cool and refreshing and truly peaceful. _

_In her mind's eye, she leaned forward then, dipping her fingers in the clear water, and watched as the small ripples of transparency began to flow away toward the boundless, endless possibilities of past, present and future. Brilliant color and starlight reflected in the waves that grew higher as they sped ever outward. And as she lifted her ephemeral hand, droplets of luminous energy clung to her skin for a brief moment, before falling backward into the abyss. _

_So lovely as she watched the droplet hit the lake... _

_Abruptly, with all the raging power of a frenzied storm, the scene changed. The swift shadow of roiling ink splashed over everything, descending into the pool and outward again, obliterating all light, all sound for a moment of intense void. A black hole of nothingness._

_Peering into the ebony darkness, Atel began to discern clashing sound and long smears of light and color. The angry buzz of lightsabers, a flowing noise of hard rain or static, tearing, the harsh melting discord of electronics frying into oblivion. Angry voices, too, raised in fury and despair. _

_A male voice, low and rumbling, harsh with remorse. "It is not your fault. It is mine." A lightning flare of crimson light revealed Jinn's shuttered face. _

_Hopeless grief spilled into the inky dark as Obi-Wan rasped, "I should have listened." Brief tremblings of indigo stripped across Obi-Wan's darkened eyes before they were covered again in shadow. _

_Atel had never heard such anguish from her Master. _

_More shouts, indecipherable and then her own words clear and angry. "I won't let you hurt him". _

_Crying then and furious, the clouds billowing in black and more black, stealing all light, except for the one brilliant flash of blue, spinning end over end into the depths. "Master, come back." _

_Horrified, the sick whispered bottomless sorrow of Obi-Wan's voice echoing into the ether. "What have you done?" _

_No glimmer of light, no light at all. _

_Harsh on the heels of that hopeless sound was one that froze Atel's heart. In the ebony shadows, an unknown voice of satiated pleasure rang out, "Death, the sentence is death."_

_More roaring and furious denial as her Master's voice begged, "No, it can't be."_

_Jinn's hoarse desperate pleas. "No, Obi-Wan. Stop!" _

_A blinding flash of corpse-light as Master Obi-Wan spat out, "Liar! You have betrayed me!"_

With a groan of aching despair, Atel awoke. She couldn't breathe, could... not... breathe for the harsh sobs even now collecting in her chest. Drawing in, gasping for air, she pushed herself back up. While caught in the dark vision, she had fallen forward, hands fisted and pushing against the durasteel floor, her face wet with tears. Cramping muscles spasmed as she tried to regain her balance and thrust herself up; her hands opened to show half-moons of blood in the fleshy palms.

However the pain of abused skin and aching limbs was nothing to the anguish she felt. That meditation, that vision spoke of betrayal and death.

Oh, Force, what did it mean? And what was she supposed to do now?


	33. Chapter 19: Finding the truth part 1

**A little explanation about how I write visions for those with questions. **

My own interpretation of the Force is that it's like a great river. There a slow moving clear sections that you can see all the way to the bottom with lots of life; it's beautiful and tranquil and of the Light. If you are centered and calm, it will be refreshing and helpful.

Then there are the rapids - still clear but starting to churn up dirt and mud enough to make it difficult to see things. There are also dangers there of getting sucked under and getting hurt. It's beautiful on the surface but underneath it can be deadly. If you are giving into fear or jealousy or any of the greyer emotions, the Force will react accordingly.

Finally there is a flooded river, full of darkness and debris, dead bodies and houses broken into little pieces. The darkside. The surface is still beautiful in a deadly, hypnotic way but underneath, you'll drown. Hatred, despair, fury will fill the Force around you with darkness.

In the river, there are eddies of the current, little whirlpools of past, present and future, all swirling together. As you access them, you might see little snippets of things before they happen but it will be unclear whether it will happen or might happen or if it's your own fears driving them. That's why you need to be careful when interpreting visions.

Hope that helps.

* * *

**Chapter 19: Finding the truth is but the first step**

**Part 1**

"Lies have a way of growing." Obi-Wan's murmur was subdued, almost lost in the quiet of the small cabin but Qui-Gon nodded in agreement.

Working intently as they tried to uncover the truth about the accusations of murder, the two men had said little since Atel had fled their quarters. They knew that they could do nothing to help the Padawan. She would have to come to terms with that nexu's nest of lies in her own way and in her own time. Her steadfast belief in a system so riddled with deception had been sorely tested. Only she could accept the truth; it could not be forced on her unwilling. If they tried, the backlash could be disastrous. So they ignored it - for the moment.

But Obi-Wan was sure that Atel would make the right decision when her meditation was done. She had to. There could be no room for doubt, not when so many things hung in the balance.

He, too, would have to deal with the revelations. Obi-Wan understood that, even though the problem must be rooted out, discovering the vast network of deceit at the Temple was the first step towards vanquishing the darkness and turning those affected by it back to the light. Yes, he would have to solve this dilemma... eventually, but not now, not when time was fast slipping away. There were more immediate concerns than one confused Learner and her distorted view of the past.

"The truth will emerge, Padawan. Of that, I have no doubt." Qui-Gon sent him a brief smile and then turned away, back to the problem at hand.

Answering his Master's warmth with his own, Obi-Wan let out a quiet sigh and relaxed. Watching the man who had once meant everything to him, enjoying the stillness of the moment, he shook his head. Acceptance and hope in a simple smile. He had missed his Master's companionship - especially in those first few months at the Temple. Long ago, a lifetime ago and yet here he was. Alive and well and….

Qui-Gon looked up then, unasked questions in his eyes. Shrugging sheepishly, Obi-Wan chased away the memories and got down to business.

The investigation's list of times and ships and movement was a weighty knot. It seemed straightforward enough once the threads began to untangle. According to the manifests, Qui-Gon's ship had docked on Telos a dozen times in the past two years, and in each case, the Bendu Champion was listed as pilot/owner.

And yet his Master insisted that he had not returned to that planet since Xanatos had died - not once.

There were too many answers and not enough questions.

"Obi-Wan, this is impossible." Pointing to the datapad in disbelief, weary frustration colored Qui-Gon's voice. But his protests did not erase the lies that continued to blaze across the datascreen, mocking them both. "I know that I did not murder anyone. If these men have died as claimed, then it is obvious that we need to find the person who killed them. Or else prove somehow that I was not there."

"Something that we may not be able to do, Master. The data is clear and since the Council refuses to send an investigator to Telos..."

"It appears to be more difficult than I had anticipated," Qui-Gon admitted. "But there must be a way."

Obi-Wan sent his old Master a look of exasperation. "Perhaps we should look at it from a different point of view."

Qui-Gon frowned at that. "Meaning…."

Picking up the datapad, Obi-Wan scrolled through the information. He was thinking hard, trying to figure out a way to attack the problem, a way to break through the web of secrets he held in his hand. Finally, stymied, he laid the pad back onto the table. "I don't know. The problem is that all we have are electronic reports. Mind control, you and your ship on Telos, the murders, all these accusations are unproven. Only lies in a database. No concrete evidence at all."

Qui-Gon pointed out, "It is true that databases are only as good as the information they contain." Concern deepened the lines in his face, abruptly aging him into greys and apprehension. "It would be easy enough to substitute my name for another. Any slicer could do it and a good one would make it impossible to trace."

"Quite so." Obi-Wan rubbed his eyes, the headache he had held at bay threatening to return. He hesitated. Something was wrong beyond the obvious false accusations. "But it's more than that. It's put together too neatly, almost manufactured. With any murder, there are always unresolved questions and with four…"

"Are you saying there aren't enough loose ends?" If the situation wasn't so serious, it would be almost amusing. A light comedy to please the masses and everything right in the end. But this was no Holonet entertainment and the consequences could be deadly for one former Jedi Master.

"No… I don't know." Leaning back, Obi-Wan stared at the datapad. Crossing his arms tightly about his chest, he sank into thought, puzzling out just what had troubled him so. Next to him, Qui-Gon waited patiently. In this, Obi-Wan could not be rushed.

A few moments later, Obi-Wan offered another wildly-unorthodox suggestion. "It's too neat. There is no real proof that anyone has been murdered. Only what is in the database. And if it is corrupted," he paused, abruptly sick at the thought but feeling the rightness of his words, "there may be no murders at all."

"So you think that perhaps...perhaps, it is all a lie, everything?" The utter astonishment in Qui-Gon's voice morphed into quiet deliberation. "It would make sense."

Grey eyes met those of stormy blue. It made perfect sense.

Obi-Wan's mouth flattened in distaste. "Very effective, too. The investigation complete and you eliminated for good."

"But why me?"

Obi-Wan spread his hands wide. The answer to that question was probably hidden somewhere in the datapad's electronic puzzle but there were other possibilities. "Master, even in the short time I was on Naboo, it was clear that the Bendu was a powerful organization and one with increasing prestige. You head the group and that makes you a target. Besides, I'm sure you've acquired a few enemies since you left the Jedi."

Qui-Gon shook his head, pointing out the fallacy in that logic. "Mace, Adi and even Siri play more important roles in the Bendu group than I do." When Obi-Wan started to protest, he continued, "Oh, I agree that our influence is growing in this sector, much as we try to downplay it. Our activities do occasionally bring us into the public light but we are dedicated to serving the greater good."

Nodding, Obi-Wan argued, "Some would say that your greater good is interfering with... profit. And you must admit that you've brought a few individuals to justice in recent years."

But Qui-Gon just shook his head. "None with this kind of expertise or the money to buy it." He hesitated, watching his old Padawan as he said, "But whoever did this must realize that the truth would come out eventually. As soon as a security officer interviewed any of the witnesses…."

"Master, that is not going to happen. The Council will not change their opinion. They have rejected any suggestion that the murder charges be investigated on Telos and they are insisting that this data alone is sufficient." Obi-Wan tapped on the datapad screen, as if to emphasize his concern.

This was not good. It would appear that his Master's old relationships with certain Council members may have been in the past but the long-ago often comes back to haunt the present.

"The lies might be uncovered eventually but it would be too late for you." Obi-Wan's voice took on new urgency. "Somehow, we must prove your innocence and quickly."

"How do you..."

The snap-click of an opening cabin door interrupted their conversation. Shuffling quietly into the room, a subdued Padawan stopped before her Master, bowed slightly and then, still shrouded in silence, moved past them to stand by the porthole. Folding her arms about her as if for warmth, she ignored the two men.

But the pulsed etherlight of hyperspace drew her profile in lines of disquiet.

As Atel said nothing, as the uneasy stillness grew, Obi-Wan became increasingly concerned. He had expected her to be in meditation for some time. There had been much to ponder and it should not have been an easy task. But instead she had been gone an hour - so short a time that Qui-Gon and he had only begun to delve into the evidence gleaned from the Naboo and Republic databases. It disturbed him to see her looking so forlorn. It was clear that she was deeply troubled.

He glanced at Qui-Gon for a brief moment and then moved quickly to her side. Laying a warm hand on her shoulder, he said, "Padawan, are you alright? What happened?"

Her brown eyes flicked briefly towards Qui-Gon before she turned away. But, in that instant, Obi-Wan could see that she was haunted by something still unspoken.

Abruptly she shrugged off his touch and replied flatly, "Yes, of course. I'm fine." Atel twisted out of reach, looking about the cabin for something, some reason to elude his questions. She spied the errant sewing that had been tucked into a small corner when the meal had arrived. As she sauntered too-casually towards Obi-Wan's torn tunic, she said, "Nothing happened. Nothing at all."

Obi-Wan did not like that answer or the fact that she would not meet his eyes. There was a lie here and he would get to the bottom of it.

"Atel, you should know..."

But she cut through his reply. "Master, please don't."

Startled, the shock of her unexpected defiance bled into his voice. "Do not put me off again, Padawan. I will know what you are hiding."

Ignoring his unspoken question, she sat down and, picking up the tattered garment, began to turn it over and over in her hands. Unconsciously tugging at the unraveling threads, Atel said quietly, "I'm not hiding anything." Looking up then, her eyes were blank; the stoic mask had slipped into place. "Master, just leave it. I promise that when I've come to a conclusion, I will let you know."

Frustration and the knowledge that time was growing ever shorter drove him to say, "No, no more. We haven't got the luxury of waiting for the right moment to be honest with each other. It must begin here and now, Padawan."

He stood there in silence, towering over her, watching steadily as she began to pull the shredding fabric into pieces. His arms crossed about his chest, it seemed almost as if he were an inexorable force, as if he was willing to wait an eternity for her explanation. And he would not be moved.

Finally, Atel bent her head and looked down at her hands still busy with destruction. With an audible sigh, she stopped, and then smoothed the cloth in small, sweeping strokes as though in apology. Looking away, her eyes fixed on blank oblivion, she began to speak. "I... I had a vision."

"It troubles you."

She nodded, hesitant, still not meeting his gaze. "Yes, Master."

When she said nothing else, when it was clear that she would not, Obi-Wan pressed the point. He knew that she must face her fears. Only then would she be able to see beyond them. "Tell me."

She looked up then, staring at her Master for a moment before her gaze snapped toward Jinn and back again, lazerwhip fast. Her mouth hardened with distaste as she hissed, "Not here. Not with _him_ here."

"We are in this together, Atel, whether you approve or not." His reply was sharp.

Sending a blasterbolt stare towards Jinn before turning her head away, she insisted, "You won't like what I've seen."

Obi-Wan's patience was wearing dangerously thin. "Padawan, now!"

With that, she nodded. Her hand trembled on the fraying fabric for a moment, and then pressed both palms down flat. She refused to look at Obi-Wan as she began to speak but the desolation in her voice was enough.

"I saw… I saw blackness, the color of the Dark spreading outward through the Force. It seemed to..." She glanced up at him then, her eyes liquid with regret. "It covered everything, everyone. I tried to see my way clear, to fight it but then I heard..." She hesitated, "I saw... Master, you were in pain. Your voice was filled with such anguish that I couldn't bear it."

Obi-Wan knelt down next to her, covering the whitened hands in his own. Quietly, trying not to unsettle her more, he said, "Atel, Padawan, let it out, release your fear and let it flow from you so that you may be at peace."

One shuddering breath and she said. "I'm trying, Master but it was... you were... so much grief. So much anger."

"What else did you see?" Gently said and she seemed to accept that she must finish what she had begun.

Atel sent another penetrating stare at Jinn and the hesitant voice grew space cold. "_He_ was there. He told you to stop. I couldn't see much else except..." Gathering courage, determined now to make Obi-Wan see the truth, she spat out, "You accused him of betrayal, Master. You said that it could not be and he told you to stop and then you said that he was a liar and that he betrayed you."

Obi-Wan stood up, away from her venom. "It's not possible."

"I know what I saw, Master." A hardened, cutting reply and she stared straight at the Bendu, as if daring him to protest.

But Qui-Gon said nothing, merely stood there watching her with bewildered eyes.

"Are you sure?" Her Master's stern voice brought her back to face him.

"I... it was all Dark, Master. A few images and they were all jumbled up. But you were with him and then, in the next moment, you accused him of betrayal." She grabbed his hand, "Master, please. We can't trust him, please."

"Always in motion is the future. This may be one path of many."

"But..."

He stepped back, pulling out of her reach. "Atel, you know the Order's stand on this; the Code is clear. Visions can deceive as well as inform. Be aware of what the Force has shown you but do not assume that it is true."

"Master, I... I know the Code." Frowning, she said, "Forgive me but I must point out that you do not ignore them and haven't in all the years I've known you."

"No, I don't. But I also don't act rashly based on visions alone. If you follow them blindly, the cost may be great, greater than you are willing to pay. Don't allow your fears of the future to overwhelm you."

She stood up, carelessly flinging the tunic to one side. "I cannot just dismiss everything that the Force has shown me." She nodded sharply towards the silent Qui-Gon. "_He_ is dangerous, to you, to this mission..."

"Enough, Padawan. Your fear has blinded you."

Atel shot back, unthinking, "And your love has blinded you."

His face grew hot and then cold and he was staring at her open-mouthed. That she could speak so to him was astonishing.

As his eyes hardened, she recoiled back. "Master, please. I know that you don't believe me. I know that I can't convince you but please, if nothing else, please be careful. I don't want to lose you, Master."

The abject misery in her voice did much to soften his anger. With a heavy sigh and deliberate nod, he reassured her, "Padawan...be at peace. I know you meant well." Looking briefly at Qui-Gon with questions still unanswered in his eyes, he turned back to his apprentice. "I promise to be vigilant and I will think on what you have said. Will that suffice?"

Atel visibly relaxed. Smiling tentatively, she murmured, "Yes, Master, thank you."

Even as they turned back to the problems of the moment, Obi-Wan knew that the possibilities of spreading Darkness loomed large. Vigilance was key but would it be enough? Only time would tell and time was growing short.


	34. Chapter 19:Finding the truth part 2

**Chapter 19: Finding the truth is but the first step**

**Part 2**

For a few moments, the two men stood by the portal, talking softly. Atel watched as Jinn muttered rumbling assurances that he was not troubled by her visions; Obi-Wan offered his support of the rogue. But all the while, the solidifying dynamics of the pair continued to trouble her.

There was little she could do about it. In fact, her continued dissension seemed to push her Master further away.

In one thing, however, Atel could breathe a sigh of relief. At least now Master Obi-Wan was aware of the potential for danger. Her dark vision may have been clouded and confusing but it had given both of them some insight into the future. Of course, her interpretation differed from his. How could it not? Jinn standing there listening to their argument did not help the matter. But her Master had accepted that she had seen something, for good or ill, and it put him on his guard. She would have to be content with that.

She had no doubt that truth would win out in the end.

As for helping Jinn with his case, perhaps it would be best to let the two men go over the evidence without her. Any input she might have could be construed as interference and she had had enough of arguing with her Master.

It might be better just to stay out of their path

With that thought in mind, she turned away from the pair. Spying her Master's cast-off tunic lying in a crumpled heap, Atel leaned over and gingerly picked it up. She gazed at the rapidly-fraying cloth, running her fingers over the stains and worn spots and shaking her head in annoyance. These last few minutes had done more damage that she could have imagined; her anxious hands had almost pulled the garment into pieces.

She began to look for the sewing kit so that she could go about repairing the sleeve when Obi-Wan interrupted her. "Leave the tunic for now, Padawan. Until we can see our way clear on this, I want you to help with the murder investigation."

She looked up at him, surprised. "Are you sure, Master? I thought that you might prefer me to do something ... else."

"We need your help. You were the one to find the accusations of mind control and murder. And you may have more insight into the details of the homicides since you have already studied them a great deal."

It made sense but she wasn't sure that she could be much use if he expected her to help clear Jinn's name. It just wasn't possible with all the evidence against the rogue. But her Master had asked her to do this and so she would try her best.

Gently, she put the tattered garment aside and sat down. She knew it would be a long night of delving into the intricacies of investigation. Taking a deep much-needed breath to center herself, she looked up at Obi-Wan, and then trying to be as impartial as possible in this difficult situation, she replied, "Where would you like me to start, Master? With the murders themselves? The evidence is clear-cut but I can go back over the data to see what we can do about mitigating circumstances. They might go easy on former Master Jinn if ..."

Obi-Wan interrupted her, "No, that's not quite what I had in mind".

When she blinked in confusion, he pushed forward, gesturing toward his old Master. "Qui-Gon and I have come to the conclusion that the database contains false records, deliberately placed there."

She must have heard him wrong because it was all just too ludicrous. "What?"

"We believe that there are no murders and..."

Shock stripped away her fragile calm. Slicing across his words with razored astonishment, she spat out, "That's absurd, Master. Of course there were."

But he kept talking as if she had said nothing. "And that we have to find a way to prove that."

Blinking at him, she sat there, stunned. It appeared that, even though her misgivings for the rogue were backed with solid evidence, Obi-Wan could not or would not agree. Apparently he did not need the truth. He only wanted her assistance in finding what he insisted was there - even when it wasn't.

She took another deep, cleansing breath. It was clear that her Master had lost all reason in this. Speaking slowly as if to a lost child, she said, "That's... Master, forgive me but what you propose, it's just... it is insane."

His face hardened at her objection and there was a moment of silence as he seemed to ponder her words. Finally, when he spoke again, his voice was unyielding as stone. "Whether you agree or not, you have said that you would help. I ask that you do your best to find any anomalies in the data. Is that clear?"

Sitting there, she started to point out the absurdity of this command; after all, the evidence was indisputable. But she stopped suddenly and thought about what he was instructing her to do. It was obvious that he was blind and deaf to all reason in this and would not see beyond it, not without clear proof of Jinn's guilt. Arguing was useless.

"Master, I... yes, of course, Master." For the moment she would agree to do as he requested. There would be time enough for reality to sink in.

Nodding, he handed her the one of the datapads. "Good. I believe that you should begin correlating the Telosian records with any information on Master Jinn's ship, _Serenity_. Repair files and docking charges will also have dates and length of time in port. Flight plans filed with the Naboo Space Authority over the past year would be of use as well."

"Master, I have done this before." Even as she turned on the 'pad and began to scroll through the information, she could not keep the exasperation out of her voice.

"I know you have, Padawan." A heavy sigh and he gentled his tone. "I am sure you will do your best. Let us know when you have found something."

Her eyes grew wide at the _'when'_ in that statement. She was convinced that it should rather be _'if'_. There was no guarantee that she would find anything to corroborate Jinn's story or to prove that he hadn't been on Telos at the time of the murders. But the subtle undercurrent of pleading in Obi-Wan's voice tore at her. She hoped, for his sake, that he was right.

She bowed her head in acceptance. "Yes, Master."

Atel watched him as he moved to Jinn's side and began a low, rumbling conversation. Shrugging in silent protest, she turned again to the datapad. The sooner she started, the sooner it would all be settled. Focusing on the murder details, she began to correlate the ship's movements with the times that Jinn was known to be on Telos. But under it all, her senses caught at the quiet discourse between her Master and the rogue.

"I am at a loss as to how to proceed. The Council will not listen to mere accusations of tampering. We will need proof or counter-evidence." Obi-Wan sounded concerned.

"What would they accept?"

"If we had clear evidence that you were elsewhere during the same periods and that you could not have traveled to Telos at the alleged times, it might suffice. The databases are a good start. Atel has had quite a bit of experience in information gathering."

Atel looked up at that. Praise from her Master was always welcome, even here, even now. But as she turned back to her work, he continued, "It may be enough if she can uncover some anomalies. I just don't know."

She said nothing but she knew that her Master was showing her a great deal of trust. She was determined to help him, even if it were to find nothing wrong. With added purpose, she looked once more into the intricacies of flights and dates.

It was complex work. The Naboo listing of shipping schedules was very thorough and seemed to agree with the Telosian findings. Of course, time differences were to be factored in if any realistic appraisals could be done. Atel dove into the records with increased fervor. She couldn't seem to find anything odd or misaligned from the databases. The flight plans matched perfectly. Sighing, she moved deeper into the codes. There might be something there.

Atel glanced up to see that Obi-Wan scrolling through his own information, looking for dates. He must have found something because he turned the datapad over to Qui-Gon. "Master Windu indicated that you were actually on Naboo when two of the murders took place. But the Council will not listen to friends or members of the Bendu. They must have impartial evidence or beings with impeccable credentials."

"I agree that it will be difficult for them to accept the truth. My past confrontations have already labeled me as rogue. It would take little to transform that into villain."

"From what Atel has told us, those in the Temple may already see you painted as corrupt, a base schemer lurking beyond the shadows. We will need to be careful."

"Obi-Wan, it is as the Force wills." She had turned back to her own work but she could still hear the gentle chiding in Jinn's voice. "Don't center on…."

"Your anxieties?" Something made her look up. Jinn's hand was on her Master's shoulder and she could see a wry grin on Obi-Wan's face. "Yes, Master, I know."

It hurt to watch. She deliberately turned back to her work. But she was still listening.

"Two months ago, on that date, I was teaching advanced lightstaff techniques at the Sanctuary. I was seen by dozens of Bendu and several townspeople including Governor Antilles."

Obi-Wan did not sound optimistic. "Unfortunately, Antilles would not be considered an impartial witness. He's related to your wife. And the Bendu would have the same problem since they have a vested interest in your return."

"Much as I would like it to be otherwise, I agree with you. The Council would likely discard the information."

Atel looked up again. It was clear that Jinn was looking at the entries, his eyes following the motion as he read through it quickly. He pointed again to the screen. "At this time, five months ago, I was on Melida/Daan with Mace on a business venture. We had just sold some of my biologicals to a pharmacea consortium." He nodded toward the 'pad. "They would have records of our transactions. Plus we used my ship for transport. My manifest would show this as well as the Naboo flight records. Perhaps Padawan Sl'etah will be able to match it with the Melida/Daan logs."

She looked up at the sound of her name. She was glad for the distraction. Frankly, she was a bit frustrated with her search through the files. The flight coding was proving to be difficult and there were some strong security walls that she was finding hard to breach. It was odd because downloaded files should not be that much of an obstacle.

"Atel, have you made any progress yet?" The question startled her out of reverie; she had drifted off for a moment, still trying to puzzle out the dilemma with the recalcitrant files.

"No, Master." Blinking rapidly, she shook her head and then frowned at the datapad. "The codes are giving me some problems."

"I will be checking on Qui-Gon's trade dealings when we reach Coruscant. The records there will be more complete than what we were able to download on Naboo." He nodded toward her 'pad. "In the meantime, look through the flight files for multiple entries. If there were deliberate changes made to the system, it might show up, especially if the information indicates that the ship was in two places at once."

Atel was painstakingly polite. "Master, I've already checked that possibility and found nothing." She hesitated, uncertain of his reaction. "There have been no indications that Master Jinn went to Melida/Daan during that time-period. His ship schedule shows him going to Telos instead."

She watched as a troubled frown began to burrow into his skin as she pointed out, "Master, any slicer putting in false records of this depth would have to have been a leading expert in computer file manipulation and very thorough."

Hoping to stave off any further disappointment, she was quick to offer, "But I will look again if you think it necessary."

"No, Atel, I'm sure you are doing your best." Obi-Wan's attention slid away, gnawing on other possibilities. "Perhaps this approach is all wrong. If the flight records always showed Telos as a destination, alternate paths of investigation may be more enlightening."

"Padawan Sl'etah, eight months ago when one of the alleged murders took place, my ship, _Serenity_, was in for repair. The hyperdrive was acting up and it needed an overhaul. I don't know if your files go into that much depth. The docking facility records should show the repairs, however and the dates."

Her mouth flattened for just a moment. The thought of another womprat chase through blocked files was not appealing, especially since she was sure there would be no repair record. She tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice as she muttered, "Of course, Master Jinn. I'll do my best to find that information."

Obi-Wan sent her a quelling look but said nothing. But Atel knew he was unhappy with her; she could feel the temperature in the cabin lower several degrees with his icy stare.

Gritting her teeth, she ground out, "Sorry, Master. I'll go through the records now." She turned quickly away and began to scroll through the datefiles, looking for the repair logs of Jinn's ship. Better to just get the fool's errand over with.

In the distance, she could hear her Master's worried voice. "I don't like that she hasn't been able to crack the shipping codes yet. Usually, Atel is much quicker."

"This should be a relatively quick search. A few moments at most." Qui-Gon sounded certain. "In the meantime, this first murder accusation is easily proved false. Because I remember the date very well. It was my son's birthday party. Four years old and already showing signs of stubbornness. He's quite a handful, especially around those not trained in the Jedi arts. Le'orath sometimes despairs that he will ever be…."

There was a sudden breakthrough in the files and what she found bewildered her. She couldn't keep the disgust out of her voice. "I don't believe it."

"You found something?" The ever-present frown smoothed into eagerness as Obi-Wan moved to look over her shoulder. She reluctantly pointed to the entry. There in bold letters, were the repair records of one starship, _Serenity_, the dates exactly as Jinn had said.

Confused by the discovery, she muttered, "He's right. The... Master Jinn is right. The logs do show that the _Serenity_ was in dry-dock during the time of the second murder."

Obi-Wan's relief was palpable. "At last, a break in the web of lies."

Atel hesitated to say anything. Her Master seemed so happy about the repair entry but it wasn't enough. "It's all rather... Master, it proves nothing."

Obi-Wan turned puzzled grey eyes toward her. "What do you mean, Padawan?"

She looked away. It was hard to get out - oh it would hurt him to hear it - but it must be said. "It's convenient, isn't it? All the flight logs show that he was on Telos at the time, and yet here is a piece of data showing that his ship was on Naboo. It's possible that the datafiles are corrupt or perhaps Master Jinn was on Telos and later used fake repair records to cover his tracks."

"Atel, don't do this."

She flinched to hear the cold in Obi-Wan's voice but she was even more surprised when Master Jinn spoke up.

"No, Obi-Wan, she is right." Both of them turned in astonishment. Jinn stood there by the window, arms folded in contemplation or perhaps defense, but he nodded grimly toward her. "Padawan Sl'etah is right to bring up the alternative solution. After all, the Council will ask the same question. She is merely pointing out the fallacy in all of this."

Eyes turned to durasteel as Obi-Wan agreed. "Perhaps."

The frown had returned, cutting his face into sharp-edged planes of disquiet. "Very well. Atel, note the discrepancy and then return to the flight schedule codings. I hope you will find something more to your liking there."

She could not ignore the subtle sarcasm in his voice or the disappointment. Acknowledging her Master's unspoken reproach, she turned back to the recalcitrant files. There was still a puzzle to be solved. And she would be the one to solve it; she would not fail again. She turned all of her attention to the task ahead.

* * *

An uneasy silence settled into the cramped space. While Atel poured through the files, Qui-Gon twisted away. Leaning back against the cool metal wall, his arms still folded against his chest almost as if he were shielding his heart, he closed his weary eyes for a moment. He appeared to be deep in thought.

At his side, Obi-Wan stood, supporting him without words. Behind them both, the cabin window framed a flickering smear of stars; the random pulses of brilliance ran a frantic counterpoint to the stillness within.

At last, Qui-Gon seemed to rouse himself. "Your Learner may be able to crack the codes but let's be realistic. Without a defense witness to stand before the Council or Jedi investigators with solid proof of my innocence in hand, it is unlikely that I will escape this trap. Whoever it is, they have woven it well."

"Is there no one with Republic influence that could appear in your defense?"

At the question, Qui-Gon let out a quiet grunt of satisfaction. "Padmè might."

"Padmè? Senator Amidala?"

"Yes. She's the Senator from Naboo and a good friend. She was at Ben's party. She was visiting the Lake District that day and dropped by to see Anakin." A small smile began to tease at his mouth. "Ben's party was in full swing when she arrived. She stayed until quite late, discussing the current Republic situation with the Separatists with me and several others. She should be able to verify that I was there."

"Are you certain she will testify?"

Qui-Gon was almost relieved. "We've known each other for a long time and Padmè is often at my farm when she is on planet. In fact, I was in her service when we were defending Naboo against the Trade Federation invasion. I am sure that she would be glad to do this."

"Qui-Gon, that's wonderful news. She's the Head of the Loyalist Party and a well-known advocate of Republic peace-keeping initiatives. The Council would not be able to reject any testimony of such an esteemed member of the Senate."

"One problem remains, however. I believe she is currently on route back to Coruscant but she was going to stop at a few neighboring systems to garner support for her stand against the Military Creation Act."

"I will contact her office once we reach Coruscant. I am sure that the Council will want to hear her testimony before passing judgment." Obi-Wan was relieved. This would be very useful for Qui-Gon's defense. "I have no doubt that she will be of great help in this."

Qui-Gon's smile grew to match Obi-Wan's own. This was a small victory but the tension caused by the past few days seemed to melt away. Obi-Wan could feel the relief flowing through them both, bright currents of luminous energy dancing across their skin.

"Now, if my Padawan could just..."

Obi-Wan began to turn towards Atel when he was interrupted by her explosive "What the!?"

His head snapped in her direction, instantly recognizing the thunderous frown on Atel's face as indignation. She was staring, narrow-eyed, at the datapad and grumbling furiously. "That can't be right."

"Padawan?" In one fluid moment, Obi-Wan was by her side, hunching over her shoulder to watch as her fingers punched frantically at the keys.

"Blasted datafiles. If I ever find who this damn slicer is, I will either congratulate him on a brilliant piece of work or I will flay him alive." As her hands darted over the 'pad, her voice growled in sharp counterpoint to the click of furiously-battered keys.

"Is there a problem, Padawan?" His inquiry was gently-phrased. He had only experienced that particular tone in her voice once before and the ferocity behind it had lasted for days.

"Not now, Master. I'm trying to... damn." And the snick-snick-snick of flying fingers tamping feverously at the keypad only increased in volume and speed.

Qui-Gon frowned a question into the now-tense atmosphere but Obi-Wan merely raised his hand to wait. She would be done soon enough.

The minutes ticked by, with only the low curses and piercing click of keys to fill the silence.

"This had better work." And with one final punch at the 'pad, Atel leaned back and folded her arms across her chest, almost as if she wanted to tear the system apart with her bare hands and was using every ounce of strength to keep her annoyance at bay.

"Do you want to tell us what is going on, Padawan?"

A resigned and frustrated sigh escaped from the furiously-frowning young woman. But she did not look up, merely continued to stare at the scrolling information on the screen. "Master, this is one of the most intricate and damnable pieces of poodoo I've ever come across." Indignantly, she jabbed at the screen in protest.

"I was checking the coding to see if I could find any flaws in the data. An encrypted execution subset seemed oddly out of place so I investigated further. When I tried to deconvolute it, the datasystem suddenly went wild. All that work. I wasted hours and it just vanished; the data sets began to change randomly and I couldn't stop it."

"All of it?" Obi-Wan was appalled. Atel's strength lay in the Unifying Force and she was one of the best system analysts in the Order. For this to happen was almost unheard of.

"All of it." Another frustrated sigh and she said, "I'm waiting now to see if my feeble attempts to stop the cascade will work. I don't know if I can do anything else but start over. Luckily, our 'pads were not linked at the time or else your information would have gone with it."

"When will you know?"

She didn't answer for a moment. Intently staring at the numbers and notations as they slowed to a crawl and then stopped, she finally nodded toward the information. "Now."

"Will you have to start again?" When she said nothing but continued to glare at the screen, he tried another "Padawan?"

"I don't believe it." Her appalled reply dropped like a careening asteroid into the waiting silence. Turning to gaze at Obi-Wan with absolute incredulity, her eyes seemed impossibly huge in a face pinched white with astonishment. "I don't believe it."

Fearing that all the work of the last few days had disappeared, he breathed frustration into the cabin. "Is there nothing you can do?"

She let out a great bark of laughter at that. Shaking her head, she stabbed at the screen. "I don't think you are going to want me to do anything."

Frowning at her cryptic words, he leaned forward and stared at the datafiles. There, before him, were the listings of the past year's flight plans for the starship, _Serenity_, and its Bendu pilot, Qui-Gon Jinn. Entry after entry of schedules and dates and destinations, and nowhere, nowhere was Telos listed.

Qui-Gon had been telling the truth all along.


	35. Chapter 19: Finding the truth part 3

**Chapter 19: Finding the truth is but the first step**

**Part 3**

Obi-Wan straightened up, a delighted grin wreathing his face, lines of worry smoothing into joy. "Excellent work, Padawan." He turned toward his old Master, and pointed at the glowing information. "She's done it, Qui-Gon. She's found the key."

"Master, I... it was nothing." She shrugged slightly, trying to stave off his undeserved praise. Half-ashamed, she turned back towards the files and began to follow the scrolling information, gazing at the inescapable truth. She could not deny the turnabout in the datastream. However, the swift changes had left her off-kilter, skidding into confusion.

No one had wanted to disturb her, certainly not while she was attempting to uncover something so important but Qui-Gon asked, softly, "Has she found the source of the deception?"

"No, I haven't, Master Jinn," she grumbled.

They must have realized that her hearing was sharper than they had thought and that their continued conversations might disrupt her concentration at this critical juncture. Without a word, the two men retreated to the far corner of the tiny cabin and gave her a quiet space to work.

Even as she continued to probe the records, searching for answers, Atel could feel their withdrawal. One part of her understood that they honored her with their trust. But she was annoyed as well, both at herself and at the two men standing there patiently waiting. The emotional turmoil of this day had only set her fragile balance into chaos. And she kept making mistakes, kept assuming things that turned to dust beneath her fingertips.

The unsureness of it all was driving her mad with doubt. In the wasteland of lies and hidden agendas, the shifting sands of false leads and jumbled truths, her certainty had been twisted into bewilderment, disorder, errors in judgment. Mistakes.

She could not deny one thing, however much she might wish that it was not so. Deep down, in the most secret recesses of her heart, she blamed Qui-Gon Jinn for all this, for the arguments, for Obi-Wan's disdain, for the way she felt so off-balanced and unsure.

It was not right to feel this way. It was not just; it made no sense but it was there.

A frustrated growl rumbled deep in her chest. She needed to move beyond this; she needed to release her anger; she needed to see her way clear. She desperately needed to surrender to the deep peace that the Force could bring. But for now, she only wanted for it to be over, to get past this and find balance once more.

Atel took one deep breath and then another, trying and failing to find her calm center. A swift glance toward her Master showed that he was still waiting for an explanation. Seeking serenity, she took one more anxious breath before she finally admitted defeat. Apparently, peace would continue to elude her for now.

At least she could answer Obi-Wan's unspoken question. Her rapidly-moving hands unconsciously reflecting her mindset, she hurried to explain, "Tracing the source can wait for the moment. It's more important to make sure the records do not reset back to our original findings. Some slicer codes can be very persistent."

"Will that be a problem?"

Frowning in pained concentration, Atel grumbled, "Not if I have anything to say about it."

She stumbled on, nodding toward the datapad as if that would help Master Obi-Wan understand the complexities of this task. "And I need to make sure that the murder accusations on file with the Telosian government are also false. If it's by the same slicer, there should be a signature program but it will take time to find." She paused for a moment, sending a questioning gaze toward the two men. "Unless you want me to stop."

"No, Padawan. Do what you think is necessary."

His faith in her only strengthened her resolve to solve this puzzle. "I will do what I can, Master." She put aside her own disquiet and returned to the task at hand. The tumbled chaos of just-opened files now demanded her full attention.

As Atel turned away, Obi-Wan drew his Master aside. "It may take some time. But I believe we can safely put that issue to rest." His relief was a tangible thing, swirling around him in radiant currents of almost-light.

Qui-Gon, too, seemed to relax into the moment. The false accusations of murder must have weighed heavily on his mind. Nodding, his gaze strayed to Atel who was working her magic so diligently on the datapad keys. "I see that your Padawan is quite good with computer systems. Has she always been adept with the Unifying Force?"

Obi-wan nodded, "Apparently so. I became aware of her gift when she was first assigned to me as Padawan. I've encouraged her abilities whenever possible." Memories of the child's wide eyes and bludgeoning trust in those first few months were treasures that Obi-Wan would always keep close to his heart. "It is difficult with our constant missions but I believe she will be one of the foremost analysts in the Order someday."

"You've trained her well, Padawan."

He shrugged away the compliment. "In some areas, her abilities are quite beyond me. In others..."

"That is true with all Learners, my Learner. When the Padawan teaches the teacher..."

Obi-Wan sent his old Master an amused glare, almost playful. The argument was old and very comfortable. "The pairing is right. Yes, I know." Glancing toward his furiously-working apprentice, he turned thoughtful, the beginnings of a frown creasing his skin. "Still, I am concerned with certain aspects of her training. I often wished I could have asked for your help but it wasn't to be."

Quieting for a moment, Qui-Gon asked, "Did you have no one, then?"

He shook his head. He didn't want to remember the long nights and the loneliness. "No. Master Tharten would often try to interfere - with my development as a Knight and as a Master. She wanted to make sure that I knew my place in the Order but I was too much of a rogue for her tastes and we often disagreed. Unfortunately, because of her 'interest', none of the other Masters would offer me their guidance." The younger man shrugged, "I stumbled along as best I could."

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan." Sympathy and understanding painted the air.

"It is the past. I cannot undo it."

A brief grumble from his scowling Padawan caught Obi-Wan's attention. When Atel did not look up but continued her frenzied foray across the datapad, he turned back to Qui-Gon. "Tell me of your own apprentice. Has Anakin given you much trouble in the years since you took him on?"

"Le'orath calls him my wild child." One quick chuckle and then he shrugged off the obvious pride. But the love shone through. "She may be right but his abilities exceed all my expectations." His eyes flicked lightening-quick toward Atel before settling on Obi-Wan's dubious face. "Anakin has much to learn about controlling his temper and we were working to overcome this. But I believe, with time, he will be among the best of the Bendu. Just as you are among the best of the Jedi Order."

Obi-Wan pointed out the obvious. "Master, you seem to have your hands full each time you choose an apprentice."

"That I do, my Padawan. But the challenge of training a bright young mind is also very satisfying." Qui-Gon's slight smile broadened into a wide grin.

Obi-Wan grinned back. He had missed the give-and-take of their conversations in the long years and he'd almost forgotten Qui-Gon's dry wit.

"Speaking of challenges, how is Miera? My Padawan sister must be proud of ... Qui-Gon, what is it?"

"Miera." All of the amused sparkle in Qui-Gon's eyes had vanished and lines of grief began to dig into his face. "She's dead."

"Qui-Gon, I'm so sorry. I didn't know." Obi-Wan had met the Knight a couple of times but only briefly and between missions. Her own assignments were always long-term and often undercover but he knew that Qui-Gon kept in touch over the years.

Nodding once, Qui-Gon turned away, his shoulders slumping in pain. "She was murdered nine years ago - before we had established the Bendu, before we could help her." His voice hardened. "The Jedi Order dismissed her during the second wave of terminations. They didn't even let her come back to Coruscant to say goodbye to her friends. Just threw her away like week-old garbage." There was a corrosive wash of anger fluxing through his voice, low murmurs turning into acid. "I found out much later that she had struggled along for six months, and as soon as the Council took their greedy little eyes off her, she was killed."

Obi-Wan frowned at that. Something did not make sense. Her skills had been formidable, even among the Order. "How is that possible? She was almost your equal with the blade."

"I don't know but they found her body mutilated and one hand cut off. Cauterized at the wrist. The Jedi…."

"The Jedi would not do that." Obi-Wan protested, cutting through Qui-Gon's statement with all the surety that he could muster. He could not believe that the Jedi, no matter how weakened by cost-cutting and the back-stabbing machinations of the Senate, would kill their own.

Qui-Gon shot back, "Who else has that kind of weaponry?"

But when Obi-Wan looked at him with disbelief, he relented.

"No, I don't believe it either. There have been rumors of a dark warrior who uses a double-bladed lightsaber." Obi-Wan was taken aback at this but Qui-Gon hurried on, "Not a Bendu blade but red in color. And the warrior's face in a demon mask of red and black."

When Obi-Wan pointed out that the Bendu should have been able to trace someone so distinctive, Qui-Gon agreed. "We've been searching for him for some time without success."

"You think that there is a connection between this dark warrior and the deaths?"

"Yes, I am positive. But it is more than that." His voice hardened into stone. "The discarded Jedi have been hunted for ten years, ever since the first wave of dismissals. The killings increase dramatically as soon as the Order turns away from spying on their former members. Someone must know exactly when this will occur."

All the air seemed to evaporate as Obi-Wan struggled to breathe. This news was overwhelming. He knew that the Jedi were uninterested in helping those who had been forced out; his argument with the Council had only cemented his belief in their complacency. But to think that someone would send out information on the dismissed ones so that they might be hunted was staggering. The enormity of his old Master's implications drove him into shock. It was unbelievable and yet it made perfect sense.

"You think a Jedi is giving out information of this magnitude?"

Qui-Gon nodded once. It must have hurt him to speak of such desecration from his once beloved Order. "It seems likely."

"Master," Obi-Wan hesitated. Could he offer any real hope of a resolution? Councilor Sle'fey's command for him to join the Order's bureaucracy studying the deaths might well be a trick, to use the quaking sands of half-truth to deflect any real progress but perhaps not. Only time would tell.

"Master, I have been offered a place on the Temple committee investigating the murders. But I'm not sure. It may well be a ruse to keep me from discovering the truth."

"Take it, Obi-Wan. When this is all done, push them to do what is right."

The intensity of his old Master's trust almost broke his heart. "How can one man make so much of a difference with the whole of the Order against him? I begin to wonder if it will ever be right." Cutting through the ever-increasing decay that was the Jedi Order would need more than one individual, certainly more than one solitary Knight.

Qui-Gon glanced toward the still-frantically working apprentice but she appeared to be ignoring them in her quest to break the code. Leaning forward to catch Obi-Wan's attention, he lowered his voice to a mere thready murmur, "Padawan, you are not alone in this."

"What?" Obi-Wan could not believe what he was hearing.

But as he stood there, blinking in astonishment, Qui-Gon said, "It isn't common knowledge but there may be a Bendu sympathizer within the Jedi ranks."

More bewilderment in a long day filled with surprises. Obi-Wan leaned forward again, "Have you any idea of who it might be?"

Shaking his head, Qui-Gon's whispering response hardly moved the still air. "No, but about two years ago, we started to get lists of the dismissed and their likely location. The identity of this benefactor could not be traced but the information continues to come on a regular basis."

"There had been much debate about whether to believe the data but we could not ignore the treasure that kept pouring into our hands. It has been of enormous help. And more importantly, the murder rate dropped swiftly once we were able to contact the former Jedi and bring them under our protection."

"Do you think..." Even as Obi-Wan straightened up, nodding at the news, his eye caught the abortive movement of his young apprentice. She had been sitting there, looking at them both, her face pinched white in surprise. But as he gazed at her, she turned swiftly away.

"Atel, are you all right?" His Padawan looked so lost, sitting there alone.

She just shrugged, then started to rub her hand across her forehead almost as if to ease pain that might linger. "Yes, I'm fine." With that, her hand fluttered down toward the datapad. "I was just resting a bit. Those codes are not easy to crack."

He gave her one sharp look, wondering if she were just trying to ease his concern or if something else was troubling her. "Have you?"

Atel sent him back a tentative smile. "Yes, Master. It's good news. I was able to break the encryption coding for the Telosian government records." She pointed to the data files, one slim fingertip following the stream of bright symbols even as Obi-Wan leaned down to peer at the information.

When she saw Qui-Gon staring questions at her, she bowed slightly. "There were no murders."

"Are you certain about this?" Obi-Wan wanted to be very sure; it was too important for mistakes now.

Nodding, she tapped at the screen. "See here and here, Master? You and Master Jinn were correct. The entire thing was a hoax."

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon gathered in close, gazing at the glowing letters. The palpable tension began to ease as they realized that she had indeed broken the code - that Qui-Gon was as innocent as he had claimed, and more importantly, she could prove it.

"There it is, Master Obi-Wan. The proof that Master Jinn was telling the truth. No mine owners exist with the names listed in our original findings. And there is no record of any person being murdered at the Sacred Pools since the duCrion incident some twenty years ago." Rubbing her face again as if to ease the pressure of these last few hours, she said, "The encryption codes had the same signature as the flight files. So it is likely that one slicer did both sets."

She angled back, twisting her torso slightly, likely to loosen up cramped muscles. She looked tired.

But at least, this time, Obi-wan was sure she had found out the truth about Qui-Gon Jinn.

Not able to keep an exuberant grin from his face, he turned to share the news with his old Master. Warmth and a matching smile passed between them as they shared a silent moment of relief.

Stepping back, Obi-Wan turned to Atel, elation staining his eyes. He took her shoulders between his hands and gave her a little shake. He sent her such a warm look that she began to smile herself. "Then we've won this round. This is wonderful, Padawan. Good job."

Obi-Wan gestured toward the door. "We should celebrate. Even though it is growing late, this ship must have a place that serves food and drink."

Atel frowned at that. "Master, are you sure? There is still much to do."

"I believe that you have earned it, my Padawan. Come."

He gathered up his tunic and shrugged it on, ragged sleeves and all. As Obi-Wan began to lead the way out, Qui-Gon followed with the ease of long acquaintance. They seemed to move in accord, almost as a single unit, silently contented in the bonds of affection between them.

But there was someone missing.

Obi-Wan glanced back, surprised that she wasn't on their heels. Instead, she was standing there in the cabin, looking at them both, blinking away some dark emotion, fear perhaps or jealousy. Until now her actions had been that of a petulant child when their toy had been taken away. But she had come around, had helped find the key to freeing his Master and for that he'd always be grateful.

Sending her a smile, he held out his hand and gestured for her to catch up.

Shaking her head a little, she looked down for a moment, seemingly contrite, biting at her lip. She said, "Wait, please."

Puzzled, Obi-Wan stopped by the door, his contented look starting to glide into wariness. He hoped that this wasn't another ploy, that she was not going to argue with him again. He'd had enough of arguments to last a lifetime and beyond.

She took two steps forward and, bowing her head in penitence, went down on one knee before Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan let out a shocked hiss and even Qui-Gon looked taken aback. Her action was completely unexpected.

"I wish..." She looked up then into the face of an astonished Qui-Gon. "Master Jinn, I wish to apologize. I believed that you were a danger to my Master and I acted accordingly. I am truly sorry."

Qui-Gon's blue eyes flicked towards Obi-Wan's own before he turned back to her. His old Master stood there for a moment, frowning down at her, watching her face, looking hard to see if this were some trick or ruse to lower his guard. Waiting for the vibroshiv strike.

But in the Force there was nothing but sincerity. It would seem that she truly wished to make amends.

Reaching down, Qui-Gon took her hands in his and raised her up. "Padawan Sl'etah, there is no need. I understand that you wanted to protect your Master. I cannot fault you for your devotion." Letting go, he stood back and bowed slightly. "Be at peace. I accept your apology."

It must have been the right thing to say because she seemed to grow shy. A soft smile and she said, "Thank you, Master Jinn."

Obi-Wan angled past his old Master and gave her a quick, sharp hug. "Thank _you_, Padawan. You have given me a great gift in this." Then clutching her small hand in his comforting one, he tugged her out into the corridor. "Now, let's really celebrate. Come."


	36. Chapter 20: Remembrances part 1

**Chapter 20: Remembrances**

**Part 1**

Laughter echoed in the cabin as Obi-Wan opened the door. He turned back toward the two trailing him, shaking his head as his Learner and Qui-Gon followed him into the small space. "And then, Atel, he opened his eyes and asked if he was loud enough."

She snickered at that. "Master Jinn loved to play tricks on you then?"

He just chuckled. "A few times. I remember that particular moment because he had never shown any signs of mischief before." Obi-Wan shot his old Master an exasperated look of affection and the delight of old memories. "He had been pretending all along that he was asleep. Snoring louder than a Krayt Draigon just to impress my friends."

He had been so young, naive and concerned that Qui-Gon didn't want him, didn't like him and certainly thought of him as a nuisance. That moment had taught him just how much his Master cared.

"I couldn't believe that he was making a joke. It took me quite some time before I caught on." He glared at Qui-Gon, and then broke into a smile at the look of false innocence wreathing his Master's face. The low amused rumble told Obi-Wan that Qui-Gon remembered the moment with just as much affection. "And then he called my friend's Master to let her in on the deception. Garen didn't realize until weeks afterward that he had been duped."

"Ah, a trickster of merit."

"Indeed he was." Sitting down, Obi-Wan pulled out the datapad and began scrolling through it. "And then there was that time with the nerfs and the speeder-bike…."

Smiling broadly, Qui-Gon began to mock-protest, "Padawan, you will have your Learner thinking I did nothing but play practical jokes throughout the whole of your apprenticeship." Turning toward Atel, he spread his hands in surrender. "I did not."

"You may not have overwhelmed me with sheer numbers but there were enough instances..." He gave a brief snort of disbelief. "My friends would often tease me about my stoic, somber Master but I knew better." He leaned toward Atel, his voice dropping into a mischievous stage whisper. "Don't let him fool you. He has quite a dry wit." A flicker of dancing eyes and a fleeting grin as he looked at Qui-Gon and said, "He taught me well."

"I think, in this case, the Padawan has surpassed the Master." Droll affection laced Qui-Gon's reply.

"Never!" Another pleased grin and Obi-Wan turned back to his work.

He was still amused by the memories, thinking of long-ago days when things were clear and clean and pure.

But then Atel said softly, "Master, what do you want me to do now?"

Her question brought Obi-Wan up short. He had been enjoying the moment, that brief respite of humor and quiet joy that he had so missed in the years since Qui-Gon left. But Atel's query pulled him back to the grinding now, not the bright past but the reality of the situation. Sighing as the laughter leached away into resignation, he nodded to her.

She was right. Time was fast flowing toward Coruscant and there was much still to do.

Obi-Wan lowered his gaze to the datapad, a disquieted frown beginning to cut into his skin. Hard as it was, he realized that he must accept the fact that his old Master was not the innocent in all things. The saber's hard evidence lay in the cabinet beyond; the question of the slaves remained unresolved. And Qui-Gon would not be nearly as cooperative as he had been with the murders. Innocence can be a powerful motive in rooting out the truth.

But there were many truths here.

His glance flicked warily toward the now-impassive Bendu. It might be possible to downplay Qui-Gon's role in the actions of the Bendu group - difficult but possible - if he would be allowed to do so by his Master. However, knowing him as he did, it was quite likely that Qui-Gon would fight him on this. Still, he had to try.

He turned back to his waiting apprentice. "We have a long night ahead of us, Padawan. Now that the murder accusations have proved false, perhaps we can focus on the slavery issue."

She nodded, looking almost eager to begin. As she started to delve into the records, she said, "I'll pull up all the..."

Qui-Gon interrupted her, sharp denial slicing the air. "No. Leave it."

Even as he turned toward the impossibly-stubborn man, Obi-Wan felt a swift flush of frustrated anger warming his face. He had hoped that he was wrong this time. But some things in the universe never change. His foolish Master would not accept help, not if it meant that someone else might suffer for it.

Obi-Wan sighed, thinking on how to persuade Qui-Gon, knowing that it was already useless but instead it was Atel who spoke first.

"What?" The shock in her voice spoke volumes of her confusion.

Qui-Gon shouldered the pointed stares with stoic ease. Leaning against the bulwark, arms folded tight across his chest, he deliberately did not meet their eyes. "Leave it alone. I have nothing to say on the matter. Let the Council members think what they want."

Obi-Wan shrugged, resigned to the inevitable. His Master would not change his position on the slavery issue once his mind was made up; he had learned that from long experience. It was better just to drop the subject and move on. Rubbing at the tense scowl that had abruptly settled on his face, he turned away and began to pull up files on the laws of lightsaber use.

"And will you be discussing the sabers we found or do we have to leave that subject alone as well?" Obi-Wan tried and failed to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

In other times long past, Qui-Gon would have objected to the question and the tone with which it had been asked but now he just looked relieved. Obi-Wan could see that he was hiding something, obviously willing to risk prison to keep the problem unresolved. Ignoring the real question, Qui-Gon said, "I use them for training purposes only. Jedi lightsabers in the hands of Bendu would just confuse the people we are trying to help. And it is illegal to use them in public in any case. We are not Jedi, Obi-Wan, and we haven't been for many years."

Obi-Wan shook his head in denial. "You will always be a Jedi, Master."

But as the Bendu looked at him with regret, he said gently, "Not any more."

Another time, another place and Obi-Wan might have argued with him but not now. "You know that the Council will contend that they are still illegal since you made them without the Order's permission. Why then did you not hide them? They were placed where even a crèche baby could have found them."

That he had accepted his fate was clear in the soft serenity that tempered Qui-Gon's reply. "Obi-Wan, the sabers were meant to be found. Just as I am meant to be taken to the Temple. It is the will of the Force, my young Jedi Knight."

"The Force asks much of you."

It was the same answer he'd given many times before. "Always."

With that, Obi-Wan turned off his datapad and began to rise, done with asking questions.

But Atel was not. Looking surprised at the turn of events, she protested, "Master, I don't understand. What about the slaves? We can't just let Master Jinn go before the Council without some explanation."

"Padawan Sl'etah, I've already stated that I have nothing to say about this issue. Please accept this." Qui-Gon's sharp retort was flat and uncompromising.

But Atel would have none of it. "You can't be serious."

"Perfectly serious."

"Master Jinn, if we say nothing about the accusation of slave trading, if we say nothing in your defense, then you will certainly be imprisoned, perhaps for years." She looked confused and a little angry.

Qui-Gon looked away, out into the pulsing light of endless space. His face was impassive, his voice flat. He appeared to be carved from unyielding granite. "There is nothing to say. There is no proof that I deal in slaves. You have nothing concrete, nothing but innuendo. No bills of transportation, no slave papers. No records. Nothing but the accusation of one vengeful man that I had helped send to prison. Not an especially good witness. And I am within my rights to refuse to talk about it."

Shaking her head, she turned and protested to Obi-Wan, "Master, you know him better than I. Can't you do something?"

But Obi-Wan said nothing, stood there deep in thought, all the while frowning at Qui-Gon. Finally, when both of them remained silent, she grumbled, "All that work and he will go to prison for a long time if we don't get him to change his mind." Glaring at Qui-Gon, she said, "If I were Master Obi-Wan, I wouldn't take no for an answer."

Her blind faith in his abilities reminded Obi-Wan of just how important this was. His Master must be made to see reason. "I understand that you are trying to protect the runaways but the slave hunters will latch onto this information and find the slave routes just by tracking your old flight records. Surely you must know this."

"Enough, Obi-Wan."

Glacial cold voice and ice blue eyes glared at Obi-Wan but he would not be deterred. "No, it is not enough. Atel is right. You will go to prison for years if we cannot find a way around this. This is not justice, this is..."

"In the eyes of the Republic, it is. Your protests will only give them the fuel to punish you. I will not allow it." The frigid stance melted into heated words as Qui-Gon scowled his opposition.

"Allow it? Allow it, Qui-Gon?" Obi-Wan stalked forward, intent on throttling the misguided fool of a Master. "How I choose to deal with the Council is my affair."

"And this is mine. The answer is no." With that, Qui-Gon deliberately turned back toward the window and stood there, rigid as stone, immovable.

Obi-Wan let out a deep growl of frustration. "You... Qui-Gon Jinn, you are the most stubborn man I have ever met."

When the obstinate Bendu ignored him, his broad back a great wall of blue tunic, Obi-Wan huffed in protest. Then he turned away and sat down on the bed, a thoughtful frown crowding his face. He studied his old Master, looking at the long silvered hair, the large fingers half-curled in disquiet, stern purpose in his stance.

Shaking his head, clenching his jaw in worry, Obi-Wan looked down to find the datapad in his hand. And he grew pensive, the silence in discolored tatters surrounding him like a ragged, ill-fitting cloak.

But Atel would not be quiet. She moved to the porthole and stood there, arms tight across her chest, her eyes flashing challenge, and whispered her displeasure at Qui-Gon Jinn. "He is only trying to help you."

He looked down at her standing there so defensive, so protective of her Master. He sent a fleeting gaze toward a silent Obi-Wan before returning to Atel. "He would do better to help himself. And you."

She pointed out, "He only wants to do what is right."

"I know." Nodding, his voice softened as he accepted the rebuke.

"You are not worthy of him." She glared at him, daring him to disagree.

But he only repeated, "I know."


	37. Chapter 20:Remembrances part 2

**Chapter 20: Remembrances**

**Part 2**

There was nothing more to be said. The studious avoidance of questions and answers lengthened into greyed silence. Almost tangible, that quiet seemed a shroud - its decayed threads harsh against the mouth, the clouds of dusty disbelief catching at the back of the throat with might-have-beens and why-nots and worry.

Of the three, Obi-Wan seemed the most silent. Atel had tried to engage him in conversation but he would not answer and she finally gave up. Instead, he sat alone on the far bed, legs tangled in meditative pose, somber, looking at no one. Deeply breathing, eyes dulled in contemplation, he seemed the very picture of serenity. But it would be a lie.

Beneath it all, the doubt and unacknowledged guilt of what the morrow would bring pulled at his heart, no matter how much he would wish it otherwise. Still, he tried over and over again to reach a quiet tranquility within the Force without success.

But Atel was not so subtle. Tomorrow would bring about many changes for them all but it would appear that she was worried. She kept glancing at him, frowning concern.

Amid all the uneasy silence, she bustled about the cabin, then finally settled down to repair Obi-Wan's torn tunic. When she'd finished and he had still said nothing, it was clear that she had finally had enough. Sighing, she put away the cloth and gently touched his arm. The slightest edge of exasperation colored her voice, "Master, it's getting late. You've hardly slept in days and you need to rest for tomorrow's Council meeting." He looked at her, weary, his face stretched thin with the mission's concerns, "I know you haven't been meditating. Even a youngling would know that."

He was about to protest, but then glancing at the Bendu for a moment, he accepted that there was nothing else he could do. "You are right, Atel. A fresh start in the morning."

"Perhaps we could spar before breakfast, Master." They both loved the give and take of lightsaber training and it might help him regain his balance.

She said, "There is a small gymnasium on the lower decks and it has been a while since we've practiced together."

"Very well. And shared meditation might be helpful."

"I would like that." She sent him a brilliant smile. "I'll take the top bunk since I'm the shortest one here." Nodded toward the Bendu, she asked, "Your sleeping clothes are in the pack but we have nothing for him. Master Jinn could use the robe that the ship provided, I suppose."

Qui-Gon spoke up. "Thank you for your concern, Padawan. That will do fine." But when Obi-Wan started to speak, the Bendu held up his hand. "Tomorrow will be soon enough for further discussion. It has been a long day and I would like to get some rest."

The resolute tone in Qui-Gon's voice told him that nothing more would be gleaned by protesting, at least for tonight. With quiet acknowledgement, he merely nodded and turned away.

A quick flurry of preparation and then all was quiet - until well after midnight ship-time.

Obi-Wan woke with a start. It was silent in the cabin except for a soft snore that told him that his Padawan was still sleeping peacefully in the upper bunk. He looked about the room, trying to see what had startled him out of a much-needed rest. A subtle flash of movement by the window and he could see Qui-Gon's face; the random pulse of streaking starlines colored the sharp planes of frown and anxious eyes into chalk and charcoal.

Qui-Gon was leaning forward, his large hands splayed wide against the walls, pushing, driving forward as though trying to melt through the ship's skin and fly away. The aura of troubled meditation seemed to cloak him in doubt, the Force's usually crystal currents sweeping past in muddied movement.

Obi-Wan could feel the remorse, almost see it. He put his own misgivings aside. Like it or not, he knew that his Master would do what he thought was right, even to the sacrifice of his life if he thought the need great enough. But he also knew that uncertainty crept in with the quiet hours.

Accepting that he could not help but only support his Master in this, he got up silently and padded bare-foot to Qui-Gon's side. Standing there patient and still, he waited for him to achieve peace.

It was a long time coming. Finally, Qui-Gon drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Drawing upright, he seemed to gather the disciplined calm about him as if it were a protective cloak, shielding him. But he continued to gaze out at the vastness beyond, refusing to meet Obi-Wan's eyes.

"Do you ever wonder why the Force asks so much of us, Obi-Wan?"

"Many times, Master." Then, he stood silent, waiting, giving Qui-Gon the space he needed to question the fast-approaching future and the consequence of choices made.

A heartbeat later, he murmured, "I do what I feel I must, no matter the cost." A muscle in his jaw ticked once, twice, his spirit's disquiet now apparent in bone and flesh. "But there are times when I wish it were otherwise."

"You would not be human if you had no doubts, Qui-Gon." Obi-Wan sent him a brief smile, one that offered warmth and fond memories to lighten the darkness. "Although I must admit that I thought you so thoroughly sure of yourself when I first became your student. No indecisions, no questions about who you were and your place in the Galaxy or mine."

With a low rumble of amusement and a quick shake of his head at the foibles of youth, Qui-Gon replied, "You were very young then, with your own uncertainties. Believe it or not, I frequently have doubts about my own decisions. My own heart had often led me astray and much of our history together should have taught you that."

Obi-Wan's grin grew wider. "Well, there were times."

"My poor Learner." Qui-Gon's eyes lit briefly. He must have been remembering their tumultuous past but then the blue gaze clouded into regret. "Obi-Wan, I don't want to go to Coruscant, not like this - prison and the possibility of never seeing my family again."

"Master, it's not too late."

"No, the Force wills that I go to the Temple. I have no doubt of that. But I must admit that I am human enough to fear what lies ahead."

Obi-Wan was startled by the confession. His old Master rarely admitted to weakness, and in the past few hours, he had seemed so sure of the rightness of his actions, accepting the inevitability of it all with measured calm. But perhaps now he might listen to alternatives. "Qui-Gon, if you would only let me help you, the Council might be made to see reason."

Qui-Gon sighed into regret. "You fight for what you believe is right; I cannot fault you for that."

Turning to face him, Obi-Wan gazed at the weathered face and solemn eyes. "But you will still refuse."

"I know you mean well and a small part of me wishes I could accept." Laying one hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, Qui-Gon squeezed slightly, warmth and homecoming in a simple touch, and then he let go. "Obi-Wan, of my own heart, I have many doubts but none about what I must do. Tomorrow, I will face the Council; the Force demands it. But I would prefer that you not be caught up in the inevitable cross-fire. Do not sacrifice your future for our past together."

Nodding in resignation, Obi-Wan said, "I think that Atel would agree with you."

Qui-Gon sent a quick glance toward the sleeping Padawan. "She has made her feelings quite clear."

"Too clear." Annoyance and love intermingled in the assessment of his young protégé.

"She does remind me of a mother sandpanther, fiercely defending her kitling against all danger. In a way, it is comforting to know that she cares for you that much." But then the amusement turned to worn regret, "I never wanted you to be alone, Obi-Wan. And you seem to partner well together."

He frowned at that. Concerned about what it might mean, he said, "Usually we do. But her jealousy still worries me."

"Even now, she believes that, in some small way, I am a threat to her. From her point of view, she is probably right." Qui-Gon looked at the gently-sleeping Padawan and nodded once, "But her fear of me will pass soon enough."

"And you will be gone."

"Yes." The emotions of the moment thinned into heavy acceptance.

But even as Qui-Gon nodded and turned away, Obi-Wan stopped him. There was one burning question that might never be answered if he did not ask it now. And although it had nothing to do with the investigation, it had a great deal to do with the past and his present.

"Qui-Gon...," Obi-Wan swallowed hard, then said, "Why didn't you ever try to contact me? All those years and not a word."

The Bendu blinked at his question, pained astonishment skittering across his face and settling into his somber eyes. "Padawan, I tried many times. There were never any replies. Until you told me about the punishment you received, I believed that you had decided to take my advice and move on."

"Do you know me so little then?" His frown burrowed deep, and resentment lingered there.

Qui-Gon shook his head but then he caught the grey gaze and held it steady. "Obi-Wan, you were my brightest and best pupil, and a friend I missed very much. But you are also a realist. I knew that you would mourn my dismissal but you had a brilliant career ahead of you. If you remember, I was the one that suggested you not contact me and I thought you had decided to honor that. What else could I believe?"

Much as he wanted to deny it, it did make sense. But the resentment still lingered for a moment before muddying into perplexity. "I never received any messages."

"Obi-Wan..." Qui-Gon sighed, shrugging off old pain. "Each time I tried to contact you, I was told that you had accepted delivery and that there was no reply."

"Who told you such a thing?" Obi-Wan's frown deepened, cutting into his face with sharpened edges. And the Force seemed to flow, fast and clouded, about him as he realized that the years of denial and guilt had been based on lies - again.

The memory of those long ago days still pained him. The weeks, the months without a word and Obi-Wan had slowly come to accept that Qui-Gon did not want to see him again. He had had no idea that Qui-Gon might have thought he was the one who refused the connection.

So much misunderstanding - Obi-Wan had to wonder if it was coincidence or something more.

But it would appear that the Jedi had nothing to do with keeping them apart when Qui-Gon said, "The chief aide in Supreme Chancellor Palpatine's office. She was handling all of my correspondence for a while as a favor to Queen Amidala."

"Why not send it directly?" He could not understand why there was any need for an intermediary.

But the answer was simple. "Obi-Wan, I had very little money for hand-delivered messages and I was sure that any HoloNet transmissions that I could send would be rejected by the Temple's staff and even they cost more than a few credits this far out. The Supreme Chancellor was grateful for my help in the Battle of Naboo and as a small token of his esteem as he put it, he arranged for my correspondence to get to Coruscant."

"That's odd." Another problem to ponder but a small thing in the midst of all the rest.

"I agree, but with all the problems I was facing at that moment, I thought it best." He sighed, "Besides, I believed that messages sent through the Chancellor's office might be more likely to be delivered."

"You were probably right. Politics play a large part in the Order now." His frown turned into thoughtful contemplation, "Once things have settled down, I'll try and find out what happened."

But Obi-Wan still wanted to know why there had been no word in those first few months. It nagged at him, a kind of long-ago frustration and time-worn regret. "Master, when you left the Temple, it was almost as if you had vanished. I contacted friends, went to places I thought you might frequent but nothing. You were just gone..."

Folding his arms about him, looking weary-worn almost as if phantom cold was seeping into his spirit, Qui-Gon said softly, "I felt that I needed some time alone, far from friends and the hungry eyes of the curious - all eager to find out what had happened. I was... ashamed of my failure."

"Failure? Master, it wasn't your fault." Exasperation colored his voice.

"I know that now but at the time, it was unprecedented. There had never been Jedi dismissed without cause before. And I needed to consider out what I was going to do next."

Obi-Wan pointed out the obvious, "You could have contacted me."

"I did meditate on the possibility." Qui-Gon looked away for a moment; memory seemed to draw lines of pain on his face. "But I realized that I should not communicate with you. Not before the six month deadline. I was being followed, monitored and I did not want to pull you down with me."

"Qui-Gon, that would not have mattered to me."

"But it did matter... to me. On the day the six months were up, the observations stopped. I sent messages via the Chancellor's office to you, to Dex and to Oddo and Astri and our other friends. But no replies."

Obi-Wan remembered again the feelings of frustration and helplessness at trying to reconnect with his old Master and failing miserably. No one had known what happened to Qui-Gon Jinn: not their mutual friends, not his contacts, no one. It had been a dark time for him.

Qui-Gon must have felt something of the same because anger bled into his voice. "By the time I could afford to send my own messages, they had disappeared and the Temple... well, let's just say the Temple was less than helpful in that regard."

Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed at the changes within the Temple; it had been very different before the dismissals.

"We were not allowed to correspond with former Jedi, and by then, I had been punished enough to stop looking..."

Qui-Gon smiled just a little, as if to make Obi-Wan understand that all was well between them even after the hard years of loneliness and regret. "Obi-Wan, you are a brave and honorable man. And withstood more than most. Don't diminish what you have accomplished."

A fleeting acknowledgement of the gentle reproof, and then Obi-Wan let out a snicker, nodding at the irony. "So we are a pair then - the rogue who would protect his former Padawan by not breaking the rules and the rule-bound Jedi who insisted on breaking them."

"It appears that we are well-matched."

"I knew that the first day I met you." Exasperation and the hint of an amused laugh brushed the air.

"And now you are a Jedi Knight, as you had always dreamed you would be. I am very glad. But enough for now. It is growing late."

He began to turn away, back to the bed he had left some time before but Obi-Wan stopped him with a firm hand. "Qui-Gon, before you go. I've missed our training sessions. Spar with me tomorrow."

Qui-Gon smiled, nodding his delight at the suggestion. "Of course. I've missed them, too. We shall see what you have forgotten."

"And what I have learned." Obi-Wan's eyes lightened at the jest.

"Yes and what you have learned. I look forward to it."


	38. Chapter20: Remembrances part 3

**Chapter 20: Remembrances**

**Part 3**

Obi-Wan was true to his word. In the early morning, Atel was awakened by a gentle jostle and the seemingly-overloud noise of "Good morning, Padawan." She had tried to turn over, her whole body aching to get just a few more moments of rest when her Master whispered into her ear, "You were snoring again last night."

She sent him a death-glare, "I do not snore." But Obi-Wan's face said otherwise, the cheeky grin pronouncing to all that she did indeed make unsavory sounds in her sleep and everyone in the cabin knew it. She rolled her eyes and growled, "I'm getting up, Master. Just give me a few moments, please."

Rubbing her eyes, she realized that the two men were already dressed and waiting for her. Her Master looked tired, as if he hadn't gotten much sleep and Jinn looked worse, but they seemed more serene somehow. As she shuffled into the refresher to clean up, she hoped that they both had come to terms with what this day would bring. For their sakes, she wished the journey would never end, but for her own, she would be glad to be home at last.

When she was finally ready, her Master informed her that they would be going down to the gym to spar. He had arranged for one of the small rooms to be available for an hour or so, enough time for a brief, intense workout. She was elated to hear that he was willing to spend some of this unsettling day with her, practicing lightsaber drills.

She was less happy to see Obi-Wan pick up Jinn's lightstaff along with their sabers on their way out the door. The rules were clear-cut; the Standards for Jedi Behavior were very specific about evidence. No matter whether it pointed to innocence or guilt, it was to remain untouched. It was certainly not to be handled lightly or used in personal activities.

But she did not protest. Her Master was aware of the rules and the penalties for violation and she certainly was not going to remind him of something that he already knew. Besides, it would not do to spoil the little time the two men had together. Better to keep quiet for now; it would be over soon enough.

And so a short time later, in the tiny exercise salon, the Jedi began to spar.

Master Jinn sat on the bench at the far side of the room, his face impassive, and watched them with intense concentration. In the few moments between sets, Atel could feel him studying their interactions, listening to the lessons that her Master would impart, and the calm way he corrected her mistakes. Jinn was difficult to read, however. She wasn't sure if he was enjoying the training exercises or thinking of his long-ago times with Master Obi-Wan.

But she was delighted. She had always loved these sessions, the give and take of saber duels and the care that her Master showed in her training. Today was no different. Obi-Wan was focused on the here-and-now as he had not been in many days. And she reveled in it.

It was some time later when Atel, soaked with sweat and breathing heavily, flopped onto the other end of the bench. One of the most grueling saber matches she had fought with her Master in quite a while, and except for a slight amused sparkle in his eyes, he was standing there, patient and unflappable, waiting for her to start again.

"Let me... let me catch my breath." She leaned forward, gulping air for a moment, trying to alleviate her body's desperate need for oxygen. Finally, she waved one hand, indicating defeat. "I admit it, Master. I need to practice more. Dusty files and investigation don't mix well with lightsaber drills." Taking another deep breath, she conceded, "Give me a minute, please."

Looking over at Master Jinn, Obi-Wan nodded back toward the panting Padawan. "Should I? Or do you think she needs a further lesson?" The laughter in his voice was barely contained and he was grinning.

Jinn looked past him at the frazzled Atel and just shook his head, huffing slightly at the sight. His mouth quirked upward as he reminded Obi-Wan, "An enemy would not allow her any breathing space."

Obi-Wan chuckled, then shifted back to her and grabbed her hand, pulling her up. "Right then. Padawan, time to show me that you haven't gone soft in the week since we were at the Temple." Grinning, he spun his lightsaber in an infinity loop, and settled into first position. "And that your old Master hasn't gone soft as well."

Still puffing, Atel sent back a tired smile. "Never, Master. I'm sure you fight better than anyone else at the Temple." She tilted her head toward Jinn. "And maybe even better than Bendu Champions."

A low rumble of amusement from Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan mock-glared at him. "Perhaps, said Bendu would like to show my young Padawan how it's done."

"I would be delighted... to show all the young Padawans here how it is done."

Obi-Wan snickered at that. "So certain are you?" And then he gestured toward the lightstaff, inviting Qui-Gon to join him.

With a regal nod, Jinn rose to his feet and scooped up the weapon, twisting the long handle a bit, almost as if he were gauging its weight. Then grasping it tightly with both hands, with a slight whisper of the Force and one thumb pressing on a small red circle, he pulled outward. Before their eyes, the staff disengaged - into two lightsaber handles.

The silence in the room was almost palpable. Astonishment, momentary confusion and above all, an itch to try it for themselves, this was indeed a weapon that called for exploration. But there was no time for that now.

Clipping one of the sabers to his belt, Jinn turned the other on, the glowing green blade bright with energy. As he moved to meet Obi-Wan in the center of the salon, Atel stepped backward, out of the way, and sat down.

She was glad for the respite but, more importantly, she was curious to see just how two of the best swordsmen of the age would spar. She didn't have long to wait.

As soon as her Master indicated that he was ready, the Force gave a tiny tremor of warning and then Jinn was on him, attacking with such ferocity that Atel couldn't believe that the match would last more than a few seconds. But Obi-Wan was not to be defeated so easily. He inched away, his lightsaber glowing high then low, meeting the other in a great shower of brilliance. As he neared the wall, he suddenly stepped backward, half-crawling up, using momentum and his ability in the Force to shiver across the surface and down again.

He landed at Jinn's left side. Obviously he knew of the Bendu's weakness; the merest whisper of hesitation in Jinn's swing allowed Obi-Wan to move away. Now her Master had more room to maneuver and he began to parry swiftly, deflecting all but strongest of thrusts. As he twisted around, Atel could see the absolute concentration in his face, the frown deep-cut, the grey eyes vivid with the reflected glow from the sabers. Another lightening-swift maneuver and it seemed almost as if both men were encased in luminescence, blue and emerald a complex pattern of joy and blinding energy. In her mind's eye too, she could see the Force's currents as it surged and spun around the two men, their use of the living energy fluctuating with need.

It seemed an eternity in the fiery tempest of the saber dance.

Then a tear in the woven light and Obi-Wan was flying over Jinn's head, sword slashing down even as he soared. But the salon's bulkhead was too low for such aerials. Instead of sailing across the air in a graceful arc, he thrust one leg straight up and pushed against the ceiling to increase his speed downward. He tucked abruptly, then hit the floor and rolled away. In the blink of an eye, he was standing upright again and, graceful as a felinoid, his lazersword angled to meet the green blaze of Qui-Gon's saber.

It was Jinn's turn to shift backwards, seemingly on the defensive but really using movements and his own sense of the Force to draw out his opponent and make her Master reach just a little too far. But Obi-Wan was no longer a Padawan Learner. Experienced with a decade of Knighthood behind him, he had learned to know his own strengths and his weaknesses. He would not be caught unawares, even by Qui-Gon Jinn.

Obi-Wan began to grin, the frown long-gone now, as he matched saber movements with Qui-Gon. The thrust and parry of their blades was almost too fast to follow, the brilliance of green and blue making ghosts of light in the air. But it was clear that they were both enjoying the fight; Jinn's half-smile matched Obi-Wan's joy.

Atel could feel the exhilaration pulsing between them. The Force seemed to sing with it. But it also brought her a kind of forlorn regret, almost grief. Master Obi-Wan had never connected like that with her, never shared such intensity in fighting or studying, or frankly anything. It was almost as if he had hidden something from her, perhaps even from himself, and only now was it coming out as the two men sparred.

It hurt to watch. She looked down abruptly at her small hands, clenched and beginning to ache. She did not remember closing her fists but she opened her fingers deliberately, trying to tamp down the sorrowed emotions. She stared at the skin, so calloused and rough with training. Her Master had helped train those hands, the kindness and patience of a decade of service seen in the flesh.

Now she was filled with regret. She knew that her time with Master Obi-Wan was coming to an end. The whispers of trials and Knighthood had not gone unnoticed but she was not sure she was ready to leave him. They had so much more to accomplish, so much more to talk about, so much more to share.

It might already be too late. Lost moments, lost chances.

With that thought, she looked up again to see her Master sweep out, his leg connecting with the Bendu's. But even as Jinn tumbled gracefully to the floor, he grabbed onto Obi-Wan's tunic, trying to pull him down as well. The Jedi began to fall forward but, at the last moment, he was able to use one leg as leverage and remain half-kneeling. Clearly the victor, he held his blade close to the older man's throat; a wide grin wreathed Obi-Wan's face as he demanded, "Do you yield?"

"Padawan, do you think you've won?" Even though it seemed he had lost the battle, sparkling amusement and a hint of triumph held in the blue eyes of the Bendu.

Obi-Wan let out a sharp snort and shifted his blade closer to Jinn's skin. "Of course. I have my saber at your throat. Could there be any other answer?"

"Look down." Chuckling, he nodded toward Obi-Wan's torso. There nestled in the stomach of her startled Master, was the unlit half of the lightstaff, its handle clearly seen. Apparently, the match was a draw. They had both lost and they had both won.

With a great bark of laughter, Obi-Wan turned off his lightsaber and collapsed next to Jinn. "Good match, Master. I haven't had such a saber bout like that since you left. You were always the finest swordsman at the Temple."

"You have done well since I last crossed blades with you." Jinn's brilliant blue eyes burned intense with pride and satisfaction of seeing his Padawan Learner become such an accomplished Jedi.

Obi-Wan's grin made him seem years younger. "Merely practicing what you taught me, Master." With that, he scrambled to his feet, and leaning forward, offered one hand to the Bendu. Even at Jinn grasped it and was pulled up, Obi-Wan's smile grew wider, cheeky and teasing. "And adding a few things of my own since that time."

Qui-Gon just shook his head, "So I see."

With one hand extended, Obi-Wan indicated the gleaming handle still attached to the Bendu's belt. "Your latching mechanism is quite intriguing. I'd like to try it if I may. And perhaps get a few lessons of lightstaff technique."

"That might be wise, Padawan."

As the two Jedi gathered before him, Jinn pulled off the saber, and with an exaggerated movement, shoved the other half of the staff into a small latch-lock, twisting it. With a subtle snick, the weapon became seamless once more.

Placing it gently into Obi-Wan's hands, he reminded him, "Although from what I've seen, you don't need much instruction. Your battle with Anakin proved that."

"It is best to be prepared. And I still have much to learn."

Jinn bowed slightly, acknowledging the wisdom of such caution.

Pointing toward the center of the lightstaff, Qui-Gon began to explain, "Its most vulnerable spot is dead-center and you would be well-advised to try and disable it at that point. Although the staff can split into two sabers, often a hit at its centerpoint can fry some of the circuitry of one or both blades." He nodded toward Obi-Wan. "You were able to do this quite well with Anakin's staff but, with a more experienced individual, you might have had a great deal of trouble. Most suitably-trained users will try and protect its center, knowing the vulnerability. Caution is key with this weapon. Remember that, Obi-Wan."

Atel stood silently, watching her Master treasure this time together, gathering the memory to hold to him when the Bendu was gone. The connection between the two was palpable, the learned lessons of a lifetime holding true. In the shimmering now of the Force, she could almost see beyond Obi-Wan's worn face and shoulder-length ginger hair to the ghostly image of a waist-length braid - as if he were a Learner once more and she was merely a spirit intruding on the moment. She was not even there to them.

Suddenly she needed to get away, to regain her center.

She began to sidle back, away from the two, hoping to reach the door without notice but Obi-Wan called out, "Padawan, where are you going?"

Before he could protest further, she replied, "Forgive me, Master but I will be right back. I need to use the 'fresher."

He shook his head, sighing at the interruption. "Don't be long, Atel. This may be important."

With a slight bow, she turned away even as the murmur of lessons continued.

"The long handle can get in the way of your swing. Jedi are used to a much smaller device, one that can be pulled around easily with one hand but swiveling something this large sometimes requires two hands. That is a liability, especially if you are being attacked at more than one position. Here..."

With an audible sigh, Atel slid through the door and it closed behind her.


	39. Chapter 20: Remembrances part 4

For those who were worrying about the slowness of the story at the moment, this is the last of the quiet times. After this, it gets energetic. :P

* * *

**Chapter 20: Remembrances**

**Part 4**

_Jealousy is not the Jedi way_. She chided her mirrored self, her dark eyes huge in the subdued light of the 'fresher. _This is ridiculous. He is not sending you away or hurting you or being anything but a kind and attentive Master._

But her flushed face stared back, reflected in the glass above the sink, mocking her unbalance. _So he is focused on his old Master. That is as it should be_.

She leaned down, hiding from her own image, focusing instead on her cramped hands so busy with the flowing tap water. As she began to splash her face with the cool, refreshing liquid, she tried to tamp down on the unwanted emotions. Envy and contempt of her own inability to control it warred with each other.

_Jinn will be gone soon and it will all go back to how it was before this damnable mission_. But she wasn't listening, even to herself.

Frowning, she looked again into the glass. The droplets slid down her skin, looking for all as if they were aching tears, and she let them paint her cheeks for just a moment. _Absurd little Padawan. This is beneath you_.

Still arguing, her jaw hard-clenched, she jerked out a warm towel and patted her face dry, roughly wiping at taut skin. Accusing eyes in the reflection, she frowned frost at the sight, _You should be beyond such foolishness_.

Savagely thrusting the unwanted feelings aside, she drew in a deep breath and then centered herself, gathering calm, standing tall and resolute before the mirror. Breathing in once, twice more, she stared at the reflection with new determination, reminding herself of just what she was and what she must do.

_You are a Jedi. Act like one_.

She pushed out the 'fresher door and moved down the hallway to the salon. Surprisingly, before the windowed door were two individuals, a mother and her 10 year old son, watching the movement within. In the reflections, through the transparasteel, she could see that Jinn and her Master had gotten beyond the lecture and were practicing, the clash of saber and staff a stirring battle of brilliant color.

Atel heard the little boy exclaim, "Mom, it's the Hero of Naboo. Master Jinn. I read about him in history class. Do you know him, Mom?"

The woman smiled indulgently, "No, Lin. I've never met the man. Are you sure?"

Lin was watching the battle with avid brown eyes. "Yeah, they had a holovid of him with that glowing sword thing. Wizard! Wait til I tell the kids back home. Do you know who that other guy is?"

The mother seemed to be as enthralled with the fight as the child. "I don't think so, Lin. He's not wearing Bendu blue either, so he's probably not from Naboo. I wonder who he is." Then she looked up to see Atel coming towards them.

She nodded slightly, acknowledging their presence and moved to open the door when the child's voice rang out. "Are you going in there?"

"Yes," she said and then smiled down at the child.

Quickly and with just a touch of awe, he asked, "Do you know him? Master Jinn?"

When she nodded, he was suddenly peppering her with rapid questions. "Are you a Bendu, too? My Dad says that they are really great people. He said that they helped us get rid of those droid invaders during the Great Battle. Were you there?" He demanded to know.

Atel was both charmed by the child and rather appalled by the implications. The Jedi had not known of the invasion; Naboo was too far away and too unimportant to send over-extended Knights to help. "No, I wasn't there. I was too young."

The boy just shrugged and nodded. "Oh, I wasn't even born yet." Then he straightened up, all eagerness to share the information he had about the champions of Naboo. "But I'm going to be a Bendu when I grow up. My Dad says that anyone can join them and help people who need it."

"I believe that anyone can." Atel was growing reluctant to discuss this further; her Master would be wondering where she was. And the subject was unsettling, even from this exuberant child.

But as she moved to open the door, the boy said, "My Dad says that you don't have to have special powers. They take anyone. And they help poor people. Not like those stuck-up Jedi."

"Jedi?" Atel stilled, frowning at the words.

Lin's mother looked worried and she tried to hush her son. But the boy ignored her, the excitement pushing him further. "Yeah, my Dad says that the Jedi only help rich people or Senators or people who are powerful. You know, people who can buy them off. My Dad says..."

"Lin'el Baettee, that's quite enough." Sharply said, the words finally stopped his torrent of enthusiastic information. "I'm sure this nice woman doesn't want to hear about what your father says."

But Atel _did_ want to hear the rest of it. Perhaps, the Council should know about what is spoken among the ordinary people. After all, it was really the citizens of the Republic that fund the Jedi Order and it was the Mandate of the Order to help those in need - never mind that it was the Senate that determined whose need came first.

"That's all right. I'm always interested to hear what others have to say about the Jedi."

The boy sent a careful glance in his mother's direction. When she gave a hesitant nod of approval, he said, "Dad says that the Jedi should watch out because people don't want them around, not if they aren't going to help poor people."

With that, Atel sighed, trying to gently correct the child. "Jedi help many types of people, including poor ones. Maybe your Dad is mistaken."

But Lin'el would have none of it. Frowning at the idea that his father was not perfect, he grumbled, "My Dad knows everything. He said that the Jedi were like..."

"Lin, enough." The woman looked increasingly uneasy. "My apologies. My son needs to learn to keep quiet about things said at home. I will make sure he doesn't bother you again."

Atel said gently, "He was no bother. But perhaps you might tell your husband that the Jedi help more than just the powerful and rich."

Frowning at the statement, Lin's mother asked, "How would you know?"

"Because I am a Jedi."

The woman turned pale, her brown eyes looking at Atel in stunned disbelief and then she stammered something about getting breakfast and began to hustle her son down the hallway. Whining that he wanted to finish watching the Bendu fight the Jedi, he went very reluctantly, dragging his feet along the carpet in protest.

But even as they disappeared around the corner, Lin'el's eyes kept darting back toward Atel, curious and accusing. The boy had believed his father's words. And that unsettled Atel more than a hundred politicians' speeches ever could.

She stood there for a moment, trying to calm her thoughts. Finally pushing open the door, she saw that her Master and Jinn had already completed one set of drills and were starting on a second. She sat down on the bench, watching them, saying nothing, thinking nothing. They seemed to be enjoying the work-out.

All she wanted to do was go home.

She was still silent when the men had completed the saber lessons. Her Master asked if she was ready to practice but she just smiled and shook her head. When he started to insist, there was a quiet knock on the door, interrupting him; apparently their time was at an end and others wanted to use the salon.

Obi-Wan shrugged his disappointment and gathered up the weapons. As the three began walking towards the cabin, her Master and Jinn talked about saber techniques and uses for different weapons among the Naboo but Atel remained thoughtful, only half-listening.

When they arrived back at their tiny quarters, her Master suggested that they get cleaned up and then go to breakfast in the dining hall. They took turns using the water shower - true luxury on a star cruiser - and Jinn was able to use the sonic cleaner for his only, and by this time, sweaty clothes.

While the Bendu was busy, Obi-Wan tried to engage her in conversation but she merely replied, "You should use the time to be with Master Jinn. I'll still be here when the mission is over."

He frowned at that. "Padawan, something is troubling you. What is wrong?"

A thoughtful tightening of the mouth and then she looked away. "Wrong? Nothing, Master. It's just that I will be glad to be back at the Temple and home."

Nodding at the thought of what lay in wait there, he replied, "We will be there soon enough."

But Atel just said, "Take care of Master Jinn, then. He needs you more than I do at the moment."

"Padawan, I think that you might need..." Then, with perfect timing, the 'fresher door opened and Jinn stepped out.

Without a word, she grabbed her tunics and brushed past the Bendu. She did not want to think about the mission or the day's end or anything else. She did not like being so unsettled. She knew she was being childish but she wanted the comfort of home. Home.

When she finally emerged from the 'fresher, Obi-Wan gave her a strange look but did not press her for answers. They were all hungry after the activity in the salon so they had a late breakfast in the main dining room and lingered there, the men talking of inconsequential things and sharing memories of days long gone. Atel listened to the conversation, nodding at all the right places, watching the pair.

Eventually, they were thrown out, and returned to the room to share a quiet meditation. Master Obi-Wan insisted that Jinn show her some of the older methods of connecting with the Living Force through tranquil contemplation; these were no longer taught at the Temple and, while Obi-Wan was not strong in that area, Master Jinn was.

Atel was hesitant. Her last foray into the Force had ended badly and she was not eager to repeat the performance but she was persuaded to try. Thankfully, the darkness and prophetic visions did not reappear.

And, as the day drew to an end and the center of the Republic grew closer, the men's conversation lagged and finally stilled. The Bendu and his old Padawan stood shoulder to shoulder at the window, silent, waiting.

At last, the random lines of Hyperspace faded back into unwinking pinpoints of mere starlight. The ship started to turn slowly, the cruiser a regal lady of the stars gliding downward toward the bejeweled planet. As it skimmed past the dusky horizon on its way to the surface, for a moment, the fading sun's light gilded the room with slow luminescent and painted the men soft gold.

The cabin turned dark again as the vessel continued to descend. Shuddering in atmospheric protest on its long, slow drift toward the port, the ship's movement reached a crescendo of vibration before gentling into its berth. Then all movement stopped and it was quiet.

They had reached Coruscant.


	40. Chapter 21: Arrests and protests part 1

**Chapter 21: Arrest and Protests**

**Part 1**

A soft chime sounded. Outside the cabin door, while muffled authority announced that all passengers were to depart immediately; the joyous noise of running feet and laughter spoke volumes of eager tourists and anticipation and home. But the exuberant voices soon gave way to the hushed tones of crew members and the whirling clanks of the cleaning droids. And Obi-Wan had still not moved.

"Master," Atel asked, her hesitation clear. "We need to leave."

He frowned for a moment, glancing at his silent mentor, then looked away and gave one unhappy nod. Still somber in the role he was forced to play, he gestured for Qui-Gon to precede him out of the cabin; he did not wait to see his Padawan grabbing the satchel filled with evidence nor acknowledge the pair of Force-cuffs dangling from her hand. He hurried to catch up with his old Master.

Muttering under her breath about following the rules and how it would look if they showed up at the Temple with Jinn unsecured, Atel shoved the now useless binders away and followed, concern in his wake.

Their silence grew as they made their way down towards the transport's entrance. Apprehension seemed to waft in the echoing hallways, leaden footfalls a somber beat of sound that pulsed defeat into the air. Past cleaning droids, past crew and lingering passengers, the trio walked toward the troubling future.

Atel frowned as she trailed behind the two men. Master Obi-Wan was not following protocol - again. Indeed, he had not done so since leaving Naboo. And while she understood his reluctance, it would not help Jinn's case before the Council. It was unlikely that they were on his side. More than that, she was sure that they would look at any deviation from arrest procedure as defiance, even rebellion.

The reality of the situation called for Master Jinn to be escorted to the Temple in Force cuffs, not walking freely down the halls of a luxury liner. The reality demanded that her Master should, at the very least, put in an appearance of following the Rules of Behavior required by the Jedi Order, not breaking them at every turn. The reality was that Obi-Wan should have distanced himself from the very beginning and approached this as a mission, not as an attempt to reconcile with his old mentor.

The reality was that it was beyond her control, she admitted finally. It always had been.

But that didn't stop her from worrying about him.

Her unease only grew as they stepped down past the transport's portal and into Coruscant's evening light. There waiting for them, were four Jedi, grim and steely-eyed and all too ready to bring the rogue Jinn into custody.

This was not good.

At the head of the delegation was the horned Zabrak, Master Zak Xacor. A Council Member and in charge of the Security Team for the Jedi Order, he stood there, stiff, arms folded and seemingly immovable. A stickler for regulations, fault-finding a specialty, he was perfect to command the Arrest and Punishment Division. And it was said that he was a formidable swordsman.

She had met him on several occasions, almost always when she and Obi-Wan had returned from missions gone bad. Of course, she had not dealt with him directly, letting her Master take the lead in their meetings. But she remembered that he often argued with Obi-Wan during their mission reports, and sometimes afterwards. Councilor Xacor seemed almost to enjoy the conflict.

Master Obi-Wan was a different matter. He would grow pensive and withdrawn, unusually calm as though he was holding his emotions in check by only a single thread. He would avoid the man for days afterwards.

Now she watched as he spied Xacor standing there. Her Master hesitated for the briefest of moments before continuing down the walkway, but the slight lift of Obi-Wan's head, the way his hands seemed to curl, was as clear as a shout that he was apprehensive about the coming confrontation.

Master Xacor was not the immediate problem, however. Vibrating in the Force, the hostility of the other guards thrummed with discord. They seemed to lean forward as if they were straining at some invisible leash – boar-wolves held in check for now but eager for the chase.

They were not called the Hunter's Group for nothing.

The Councilor turned abruptly toward his men, sending them an icy glare cold enough to freeze most of Courscant. But it was sufficient. The others were suddenly at attention, bland-faced and respectful. Looking at them once more to make sure they knew who was in charge, sending them one final quelling look, Xacor swiveled back towards the trio.

Apparently what he saw there was not acceptable. Frowning at Master Jinn, looking at the unbound hands and the ease with which he moved next to Obi-Wan, something flashed in his eyes. Perhaps it was worry or concern or annoyance; it was difficult to tell. But he soon made his reasoning clear.

"Knight Kenobi," Master Xacor said in a flat, hostile tone, "perhaps you are unaware of protocol in arresting situations." Sarcasm leached into the air as he motioned for his men to surround Jinn. "I would have thought a Jedi of your experience would know better. But perhaps not."

His eyes lowered in contempt for a moment before staring back lazerbolts at Obi-Wan. "Obviously, my fellow Councilors were correct in sending my team. I had argued that you might understand your position and...," his gaze flicked toward the silent Bendu and back to Obi-Wan as he said, "his. My apologies in misreading your readiness to accept the will of the Jedi Council."

Her Master stood stone-still, veiled insults flowing off him like water, looking supremely calm as he readied himself for what was to come. "Master Xacor, I have done as the Council demanded. Master Jinn is here." He swept his hand toward Qui-Gon. "He came of his own accord. To put him in chains seemed inappropriate."

Shaking his head, the Zabrak moved closer. The others of the Hunter's Group took a step back, effectively enclosing the trio in a square formation. They were boxed in. "You were always too soft-hearted for your own good, Kenobi." His gaze fell on Atel and his eyes were feral with anticipation. "And you, Padawan. You couldn't persuade your Master to see reason?"

She stuttered, "I...I don't..." Gathering her strength, she pointed out, "My Master is here and with the prisoner. He..."

Master Xacor cut across her words. "Where then are the standard-issue Force cuffs?" Glaring at her, he said, "Certainly not on the prisoner. Or have you lost them somewhere along the route?"

"That is enough, Councilor." Her Master's voice had hardened, a protective sandpanther defending his cub.

"No, I don't think it is, Kenobi. You may be one of the Order's best operatives but that does not give you the right to flaunt the rules. Especially...," he slowed to emphasize his displeasure at having to explain something so obvious, "in this case."

It didn't seem possible but her Master became even more rigid, inflexible as durasteel. "If you have a problem with this case, take it up with me or with the Council. Not my Padawan."

"Soon enough, Kenobi, soon enough." The Zabrak waved his hand, lazily indifferent, watching as Obi-Wan ground his teeth in frustration. "Until then, procedure must be followed. Put the cuffs on him, Padawan."

With one troubled glance at her Master, Atel began to dig out the binders. She had warned him of just such an event, told him over and over again - without success. And now it appeared as if he had been influenced by his old mentor and in front of a Council member. Worse and worse.

But even as she fumbled with the cuffs, he said, "You have no authority here, Councilor. He..."

"Obi-Wan, let it go."

The Bendu's quiet request was enough to silence Obi-Wan. Gazing at Jinn for a moment, an eternity of memories in his grey eyes, he nodded once and turned away.

Councilor Xacor watched the pair, his glance flicking first to Jinn, then Obi-Wan and back to Jinn. A deliberate smile began to emerge: sarcastic, hostile, rancor-ruthless. "Well, the great man himself finally speaks. And it is a word to the wise. All the better."

When Jinn bowed slightly, a mild look of polite disinterest on his stoic face, the Zabrak continued, "I have been looking forward to this for quite some time. Even since I heard that you would be coming back to the Temple." He paused, waiting for some retort but there was only silence. The Bendu just stood there, stony gaze fixed on the Councilor.

With a casual shrug, Master Xacor twisted aside and lifted the pair of binders out of Atel's waiting hands. "Since it seems that the arresting team is so reticent to follow procedure, I see that I will have to do it myself."

Atel glanced at Obi-Wan. He was standing there, seemingly reluctant to obey his Master's request but she could see his hands curled into frustration, the grey eyes burning to do something, anything to stop this. Instead he did nothing, only watched as Qui-Gon lifted his hands to be roughly shackled.

But even as Master Xacor closed the manacles about Jinn's wrists and powered them up, she could see that the Zabrak was not looking at the Bendu, not listening to Qui-Gon's slight grunt of pain, not savoring the bureaucratic power that he had over the former Jedi. Instead, he was staring at Obi-Wan.

Her unease at the situation blossomed into alarm. Why would the head of the Hunter's Group be so interested in Master Obi-Wan's reaction to this? Were they about to arrest him as well? There were no answers here, only more questions but she shivered with possibilities. And she knew that she would do anything to protect him, even from himself if necessary.

Councilor Xacor was speaking again. Shifting his attention back toward the impassive Bendu, he bowed his head briefly in acknowledgement. "I would say that your reputation precedes you, Jinn, but it appears you have been rather maligned. I had not expected you to be quite so reasonable."

"Councilor, I follow the will of the Force in all things."

Frowning at the admonishment, Councilor Xacor shrugged, "As do I, Jinn, as do I."

Then with one wave of his hand, he mocked an invitation towards the waiting shuttle. "The Jedi Council is in session and awaits your arrival. Shall we go?"

* * *

Qui-Gon Jinn sat impassively as the shuttle touched down in the hanger bay. He knew that his fate waited for him somewhere high above but in the moment, he could only swallow his apprehension and savor his return to the Jedi Temple. For all but ten years of his life, it had been his home, his sanctuary, his touchstone in the cacophony that usually lurked outside the Temple. And even when he had been cast aside and forbidden his place among the Jedi, sometimes at night, old longings swelled - to walk the Great Hall once more, to drink in the serenity of the Force's Light in that hallowed place, to greet friends and colleagues, to see Obi-Wan again.

Now he was here. But it was his home no longer.

The phalanx of guards began to hustle him out and he looked around with new eyes. The hanger bay was more than half empty, tools carelessly scattered, and there were stains on the permacrete floors. It was if the beings here were no longer concerned enough to clean up after themselves. It was odd, almost ominous.

The Jedi had always been careful to maintain their equipment; it could, after all, save their lives in an emergency. But instead, the few Jedi craft, shuttles and fighter planes, were glaringly shabby - mismatched hulls, paint chipped and missing in some places, and other more subtle problems, struts out of balance, crumpled plates and the uncleaned sooty streaks of blaster fire.

But then he had no more time to look around. With quick efficiency and in complete silence, they were in the tunnels underneath the Temple's main hall.

He gazed at the dusty corners of the echoing space; one glowlamp was flickering on and off and there were smears of dirt on the walls, more glaring evidence that all was not right with the Temple.

He looked at Obi-Wan who walked in silence beside to him. It was apparent that his old Padawan didn't even see the dirt, just ignored the decay as if it were an every day occurrence. Perhaps it was. But then he caught the grey eyes and there was apology lurking in the depths, a tiny shrug of shame in the tired shoulders.

There was something very wrong here and it wasn't just the neglect.

At last the group stood before the turbolift doors and waited for clearance to ascend to the Council chambers. Qui-Gon was puzzled, however. In this half-dark, lower level, it appeared as if only one turbolift was working. That could not be right. It was inconvenient at best, and potentially dangerous if an emergency shut it down.

Turning to Obi-Wan, he asked, "How long have the other turbolifts been out of commission?"

"Two of them for more than a year. The other one for about six months." He murmured, "There wasn't enough money to repair them all. It is said that the new budget will have enough to replace the burnt-out electronics in one but not the others."

"I had not realized that the Temple was in such disrepair."

Xacor spoke up, cutting across their conversation. "It's none of your business, Jinn. Our finances are set by the Senate and the Supreme Chancellor's office and that should be enough for you." His voice sharpened. "You should be more concerned about your own fate than that of a few turbolifts."

Qui-Gon merely nodded his head and stood up straight, silent once more. A few heartbeats later, the doors opened and they were quickly on their way to the top of the central tower of the Jedi Temple, to the Council and all that waited for him there, to his fate and the will of the Force.

* * *

It was a short time later when Obi-Wan, followed closely by his Master and Padawan, was ushered into the Council Chamber. The still-silent guards were hard on their heels, herding them almost like nerf to the slaughter, forcing the trio into the center of the room. Councilor Xacor took his customary seat, and with a slight wave of his hand, the others of the Hunter's Group turned as one and withdrew.

As the exit sealed behind them, the way out blocked by tarnished panels of carved bronzium, Obi-Wan seemed to hear not the ordinary sound of closing doors but the ominous off-pitched snarl of a trap grinding shut. And they were center-stage.

Gathering his resolve, hoping to turn this debacle into something other than complete failure, Obi-Wan looked around the room. He knew it was unlikely but he had hoped to see a few Councilors that might be sympathetic to Qui-Gon's case. But instead, there were shuttered faces and fierce eyes, judges harsh and cold in the deepening night.

It was only then that he realized the Jedi Council was in full session. Obi-Wan could not remember the last time he had come back from a mission to find the entire assembly of Masters waiting to hear his report. Two or three, perhaps five if there was enough of a question to warrant interest but all nine was unheard of.

He had a very bad feeling about this.

And it only got worse when he saw that slimy rshhak, Kenth Zaros, Senate Representative of the Oversight Committee on Jedi Affairs, standing by the Bothan, Master Sle'fey. One hand was resting on the Councilor's shoulder, fingers pasty pale against the plain dark brown of rough linen.

The bureaucrat himself was dressed in red silks and bullion, an exotic bird of prey gathering in his next victim with color and bright jewels, a beacon of extravagance amongst the somber tones of Jedi tunics.

Obi-Wan remembered the last time he had seen the black-hearted fop, all shine and glitter to hide his true nature. He would have thought it impossible but Zaros's outfit was even more encrusted with jewels than before. It was hard to believe that the man could walk, so burdened was he with the overabundance of wealth and bad taste. His self-satisfied smirk only made things worse.

Obi-Wan's contempt for him writhed like an adderbeast in his chest.

It was obvious that Zaros was trying to use his wealth and position to dominate the assembly. Obi-Wan could dismiss the petty ambitions of a minor clerk as unimportant, but instead it appeared to be working.

Scattered among the plainweave tunics of Jedi custom were synthsilks and fine embroideries on a few of the Council members. And although Sle'fey was dressed in simple robes, he seemed altogether too friendly with the Senate spy, comfortable. The way they were quietly talking, the way Zaros leaned forward to whisper some secret, it looked as if they were old friends or co-conspirators.

This did not bode well.

Deliberately Obi-Wan looked away and his attention was suddenly caught by the unblinking stare of the head of Temple Regulation Control, Master Sera Thartan. Icy condemnation crabbed her mouth and her hands were talons on the chair's rim. He shivered, trying to dislodge the feeling of impending doom that gathered like stormclouds in the Chamber.

"Welcome back, Knight Kenobi." Her silken words drawled out, mocking him. "I am happy to see that you have seen fit to do your duty and return to the Temple with this lawbreaker."

"He is not..." Obi-Wan bit back a sharp reply. He knew that heated arguments with the Council would not win Qui-Gon absolution nor would challenging them aid his Master's cause. Only the truth would set him free.

Bowing slightly in apology, he said, "As you say, Master Thartan. I have returned with Master Jinn. But he came willingly."

Clearly that the infamous rogue had returned without a fight was unexpected. Frowns crowded the room.

Taken aback, Thartan glared contempt for a moment, then sent a long appraising look towards the silent Bendu. "Did he now?" She stopped as Zaros caught her attention, nodding at some hidden message between them and then as the bureaucrat sank imperiously into the center chair, she continued, "Foolishly done, considering the evidence against him."

Before Obi-Wan could protest further, she scowled at the Bendu, "Still claiming to follow the will of the Force, Jinn?"

Qui-Gon's face was impassive as stone. "Not claiming. And yes, Master Tharten, always. As should you."

"You were little more than a farmer and now you are a felon and prisoner of the Jedi Order." Her eyes were frigid with disdain. "Perhaps you should have listened less to yourself talking nonsense and more to your betters."

"As you say." And Qui-Gon retreated once more into silence.

For a moment, Tharten's gaze strobed between Obi-Wan and his Master. And then with words sharp and cold as an ice dagger, she rasped, "Knight Kenobi, have you anything to add to your report before we pass sentence?"

Obi-Wan breathed out an unbelieving, "What?"

His hands began to ball in frustration and helpless fury, his eyes stunned black in shock. It was not possible. To be condemned without trial, without a chance to defend Qui-Gon against accusations that Obi-Wan knew were lies, that he, himself, had made just a few days ago, was inexcusable.

Shame warring with outrage at this travesty, he glanced at Qui-Gon. The Bendu had not moved, was as still as stone, impassive as if this could not touch him, not affect the rest of his days.

It was then that Obi-Wan realized he was the one denying the reality of the situation, not his Master. Qui-Gon knew. He knew what they would do all along. And he accepted it, without protest, had told Obi-Wan again and again to let it go. He would be a willing sacrifice so that others might live free.

But Obi-Wan was not about to let it happen - not in this lifetime. Not in a dozen lifetimes.

Master Tharten sat there waiting for his reaction, and seeming to enjoy the flush of outrage on his face. Pausing between each word as though talking to a simpleton, she repeated her question. "Have you anything to add to your report before we pass sentence?"

"You cannot do this. Not without a trial. Not without looking at all the evidence that we have…."

Leaning forward, her pinched face a mask of vulture-death and vengeance, taloned claws clutching at the Council chair, eyes space cold and just as dark, she growled out, "Just watch me."


	41. Chapter 21: Arrests and protests part 2

**Chapter 21: Arrest and Protests**

**Part 2**

From across the dusty chambers, Master Xacor shifted abruptly, frowning his indignation at this turn of events. Speaking in clipped, decidedly-annoyed tones, he pointed out, "Master Tharten, you have overstepped your authority in this matter. The Arrest and Punishment Division has clear jurisdiction, in both arranging for a trial and determining the evidence to be presented. The Council is to sit as jury, but not before all evidence has been finalized as irrefutable. I..."

But the Rodian Master, Veendo, spat back. "Enough of this. Master Tharten is right. We've been debating this for far too long and the evidence is quite clear that Jinn is a murderer, a brigand and a filthy slaver. Corrupted beyond all redemption. Not to mention that he had lightsabers in his possession in clear violation of Republic law. Where do we draw the line if not with this felon?"

There were several nods, a self-serving barrage of agreement that grieved Obi-Wan. After all this time, he had still hoped for justice among the Jedi Order. Even with all the heartache he had endured over the years, he had not realized just how truly lost the Jedi had become.

There was no one to stop it, no one to save what was left of the Order he had loved all his life. The loss of it was almost overwhelming.

Ignoring the obvious pain in Obi-Wan's eyes, Sle'fey spoke up, his ruffled fur swirling in annoyance, his dark gaze flicking lightning fast toward the Republic representative almost as if to gather permission to continue, and then he stared squarely at the distraught Knight. His muzzle curled slightly, "We may have been debating this but it is an important case. Jinn has not had a proper trial."

Sle'fey's beady gaze grew even more pointed, watching Obi-Wan's reaction. Finally, the Bothan leaned back, shrugging his indifference, and huffed, "It would be in our best interests that it be perfectly legal."

Master Tharten's eyes were as black as the emptiness between galaxies. "We have all the evidence we need, Sle'fey, and you know it. The murders alone are enough to send him to prison or worse."

She glared at the Bothan, daring him to disagree but it was Master Xacor's voice that cut across the darkened hall, "Masters, you must realize that this course of action could be disastrous for the Jedi Order."

Tharten turned slowly, staring at Xacor, looking at him with such contempt, a glare that could have easily frozen the planet's core. But he was apparently not interested in cold stares.

Master Xacor held up his hand. "Masters, please," he paused for effect, making sure that all were listening. Leaning forward, looking at each of the Councilors in turn, he pointed out, "If we sentence Jinn without the evidence to back it up, the Naboo Contingent could make our lives very uncomfortable. Senator Amidala has already contacted my office about it. She has told me that she is personally overseeing this case."

The annoyed murmurs of thwarted agendas began to build but Master Xacor cut across the noise. "I don't need to remind you that she heads the Loyalist Committee and is one of the most influential Senators on the planet."

"Does it matter how influential she is? This is a Jedi matter." Veendo's green snout was wet with disdain. He dismissed the idea with a wave of one webbed hand.

"Master Veendo, this may be a Jedi matter but the Senate has the final say in Jedi affairs." Xacor's face hardened. Apparently, his discussion with Senator Amidala had not gone well. "Do you think the Order is not without certain improprieties? It could make things quite difficult, especially with our budget coming up in committee next week."

"And just why is she so interested in Jinn?" Tharten swiveled around, looking at Qui-Gon with narrowed eyes and harsh curiosity.

But Qui-Gon stood there, silent as stone, his eyes looking beyond this sorrow, out into the clean night.

Master Xacor shrugged, growling back with irritation, "Former Jedi Jinn here has been friends with the good Senator for several years. Apparently, good enough that she would think to interfere in Jedi business."

Stepping forward abruptly, Obi-Wan pointed out, "It is only natural that Senator Amidala be concerned. Master Jinn was her security captain during the Battle of Theed. He helped to save her planet from invasion, something I believe that the Jedi Order should have..." But before he could continue, he was interrupted by the annoyed huff of the Bothan Master.

"That information is irrelevant to this inquiry." Sle'fey barked out, "The Senator can make all the demands she wants but former Jedi, criminals or not, fall under our jurisdiction." He flicked out one paw, his claws pointing to the center of the chamber. His piercing stare was an unspoken reminder that Obi-Wan had spoken out of turn. Sle'fey sniffed, "Lecturing the Council on the obvious will not win you friends, Kenobi."

Reluctantly, Obi-Wan moved back. He did not hear the crunch of the broken tiles beneath his feet or feel the grit of uncleaned floors. He did not see the dusty corners of the room or the spider-crack along one window beyond Sle'fey's chair. He saw nothing but the petty maneuvers for power, for control.

It was the very core of the problem that was now the Jedi Order – backstabbing and vindictive plots.

He felt unclean. Gone was the pure oneness with the Force's will and the search for peace and justice. Here there was no justice. And all the while, his Master was in grave danger of being sent to prison. He was thoroughly sick at heart.

The ungracious voice of Representative Zaros interrupted the argument. "Gentle beings, please, there is no need for concern." He stood up, walking slowly towards Qui-Gon, his face scorn-dark with contempt as his eyes glided from the ever-silent Qui-Gon to Obi-Wan and back again. As he stopped, crossing his arms and staring at the three of them, he looked every inch the corpulent bureaucrat - greedy, self-serving, and overly impressed with his own importance. His bullion-encrusted coat glittered with gems flashing blood-red in the subdued light; by day, he would have been blinding.

After a moment, he gave a half-grunt, then turned away. Moving with all the cocksure embellishment of a Telosian peacock among lowly mudfowl, he walked slowly around the Chambers, posing with each step. In any other place, he would have been dismissed as absurdity, but here all eyes followed him, waiting on his every word, and he knew it.

"I don't think that Senator Amidala will be a problem. The Supreme Chancellor has already discussed this case with me. He is quite... anxious that the matter be settled quickly." The contempt in his voice made it clear that Senators, even ones as influential as those from Naboo, were insignificant.

Sle'fey was frowned at that. "But isn't Chancellor Palpatine sympathetic to Jinn's case? After all, Jinn did help free his people."

Zaros waved off Sle'fey's concern with an indifferent wave of his bejeweled hand. "I have been assured by the Chancellor... strongly assured... that he wants justice to be served, especially in this instance."

Obi-Wan fought a shiver of icy dread that slithered up his spine. But as he watched the bureaucrat swagger through the chairs of the Jedi Council and stop beside Master Sle'fey's chair, his alarm only grew stronger. That corpulent rshhak, Zaros, leaned into the soft cushion and stared straight at Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan could feel the man's malice, bestial hunger of a rancor beast looking at hapless prey, all blood lust and clawed dishonor.

"Jinn has been proclaimed one of the Heroes of Naboo." The insinuation in Zaros's voice made the title seem insignificant and tainted with corruption. "And, as such, must be held to a higher standard than another felon might warrant. He also heads a well-funded organization that is known for its seemingly _charitable _works. He is influential among the Lake People and others high in the Naboo government. If he has defied the law, we cannot allow this. It would only encourage others."

Sera Tharten nodded regally. "Jinn has ever been a thorn in the side of justice, Representative Zaros. I am glad to see that the Office of the Supreme Chancellor has seen fit to recognize it." She turned to stare at Qui-Gon, her dark eyes glittering with satisfaction. "Has he made any suggestions as to... punishment when this Bendu is found guilty?"

"Master Tharten," Protesting, Obi-Wan stepped forward, his hands clenched by his side in frustration. He had to do something; he could not just stand by and let them imprison Qui-Gon, not without a fight. "Masters, you have not tried Master Jinn as yet. He is not guilty of..."

"Kenobi, you are out of order." Veendo's harsh rasp cut across Obi-Wan's protest and several other voices echoed his remarks.

So much for a fair hearing.

Obi-Wan stood there, trying to tamp down his anger at such a travesty of the Jedi Order. They had been the guardians of the Light for a thousand generations. He could not let that light die here, today. "I am not out of order if you have already decided on his fate. Without council, without solid evidence and the ability to show that the evidence in question may be tainted. Masters, this is not justice."

Master Xacor leaned forward, pinning Obi-Wan with a stare that was only slightly less hostile than Tharten's ominous scowl. "Kenobi, need I remind you that your input is not needed at this moment? That it was your own evidence that has brought Jinn here for punishment? You have no one but yourself to blame for bringing this to our attention."

"My evidence..." The fury began to gather behind Obi-Wan's eyes. That they could accuse him of this and do so without the least smattering of guilt, was almost too unbelievable for words. He felt as if he were caught in some diabolical plot for which there was no way out. "How dare you suggest..."

"Obi-Wan, don't."

The gentle reproof cut through his anger, leaving him wavering in the deepening gloom. He turned to Qui-Gon and shook his head in frustration. Raggedly, he pleaded with his old mentor, "You don't know what you are saying."

"Let it go, Obi-Wan." A rumble of affection, loss and acceptance, and for a moment, there was quiet in the tiled chamber of the Jedi Council.

Then Zaros let out a discordant humph and sat down abruptly into the center chair. Smacking his bejeweled hands together in a parody of applause, he brought attention back to the matter at hand. "Well, well, the great man himself speaks and his old Padawan immediately obeys. Trained him to jump at every word have you, Jinn?" A snort of derisive laughter and he opened his hands to let everyone share the joke. "Obedient to a fault or rather to a rogue."

For a moment, the silence in the chamber was deafening and then a few half-hearted snickers fell towards the Senate representative. But Zaros did not seem well-pleased with the response.

Sle'fey sent an unreadable look towards Xacor and then leaned forward toward the trio, his white fur matted with distaste. "Have you nothing to say then, Qui-Gon Jinn? It is your fate that we are discussing after all."

With a single glance toward a worried Obi-Wan and a wordless plea for acceptance of what he was about to do, he turned back to face his accusers. Seemingly serene, cool, obviously confident that he was following the will of the Force in this, his eyes were steady as he replied, "You have already decided my fate. Now you are merely putting the facade of legality upon it. I will not help you."

Almost as one, the nine Jedi Councilors glared at Jinn and began to whisper among themselves. The frustrated murmurs and huffs of annoyance grew, echoing off the stained columns and chipped tiles, before settling down into a crowd of noisy dissatisfaction. It was apparent to the wisest of the Jedi Order that the so-called Bendu Champion was a madman and a fool.

However before discontent grew beyond all control, corrupt bureaucracy brought attention back to the matter at hand. Zaros threw his hands wide and sneered, "You see, he has said that he is guilty. What more do we need?"

His muzzle curling in frustration, the Bothan pointed out, "Evidence, hard evidence, Representative Zaros."

With a sharp slap onto the chair's arm, Zaros spat out, "Kenobi's report is good enough for me. In this case, the Supreme Chancellor has made it quite clear to me that Jinn's crimes must be punished to the fullest extent, the _fullest_ extent."

Master Tharten's black eyes turned darker still but behind that opaque stare was the gleam of a predator's bloodlust. "And if he is shown to be a murderer?"

Obi-Wan drew in a grating breath and tried to find the words to stop this before it was too late. With distinct words, spoken as sharp and quick as a blade slicing through air, he said, "He is not a murderer. I have proof."

Kenth Zaros, Senate Representative to the Jedi Council would not be stopped, however. "Chancellor Palpatine would not object to the ultimate sacrifice. Death to all murderers, of course."

Obi-Wan took a deliberate step towards him, consciously opening his cloak to reveal his lightsaber, a reminder of just who and what he was. His words, if possible, were ever sharper. "He is not a murderer."

Zaros was ever the fool. He did not know that even Knights can only be pushed so far before they pushed back. He rambled on, "He cannot be perceived to be above the morals and justice of the Republic. Not even for one of such a Hero of Naboo. The vibroblade of the Law must cut deeply in this case. We must rid the Republic of such riffraff, a gangrenous canker..."

Obi-Wan's hands were balled tight in anger and his voice was rising. "If you are condemning him on my evidence, then you must listen to me."

He began to move again towards the Senate clerk but Qui-Gon's murmured softly, "Don't."

It caught at him, holding Obi-Wan still. Frantically, he whispered back, "This is not justice, Master."

"It is the Force's will that I am here, Obi-Wan."

"Is it the Force's will that they condemn you without facts?" He growled out, still only a whisper but growing louder as he tried to battle both the stubborn man he loved as a father and the injustice looming like a death-shroud over the Council Chamber. That his own Padawan just stood there, listening impassively through all this, did not help, no matter the expectations of the Order.

Obi-Wan felt as if he were sinking into the abyss and there were no handholds.

Master Sle'fey watched the pair's furious muttering from the corner of his eye, all the while trying to garner the attention of Kenth Zaros. Finally with some delicate maneuvering, the Bothan was able to reassure him of the Order's loyalties. "We will do whatever we can, Representative Zaros, of course. But it may be difficult to come to some accord quickly. If Knight Kenobi's assertions are correct, the evidence may prove to be a problem."

The bejeweled hands waved off assertions. Zaros acted as if nothing would stop him from carrying out the wishes of the leader of the Republic. "The Supreme Chancellor does not want this to drag on for weeks. Justice is served best when swiftly done."

But Obi-Wan had had enough, of everything. His bitter voice filled the room. "This is not justice. Damn you all. He is innocent."

Both Masters Veendo and Tharten began to speak at once, words of "Absurd" and "Your own evidence shows that he is a murderer" jumbling in the chamber. Even Zaros jumped into the fray, "Lies, ridiculous lies all of them."

Obi-Wan would not be silenced - not this time, not even for his Master.

He waited until the chaos died down before cutting across all of the accusations. "I will be heard in this."

Standing there, arms folded in immovable stance, legs spread apart as if he could remain there through an eternity of argument, he looked at the Masters and waited for their attention.

At last, Sle'fey bowed his head toward the stubborn Knight. "Very well, Kenobi." And then he sat back, relaxing as if to hear a fantastical fable from a faraway land or some preposterous story that had no grounding in reality. Waving his paw in a gracious parody of royal condescension, the Councilor bared his teeth, grinning. "Let's hear what you have to say."

For a moment, Obi-Wan was not sure if the Bothan was mocking him or merely playing some immoral game of his own. But he would not forsake the opportunity to clear his Master's name, not this time.

"After my report to you two days ago, Padawan Sl'etah and I decide to pursue the investigation further. I knew that Master Jinn was not the type to murder anyone and frankly, the datafiles seemed too neat, too complete to be real. It _felt_ like a trap. We also had data from other sources that put Master Qui-Gon at locations across the Galaxy during the times of the killings on Telos."

Brushing off the idea with a diffident wave of his hand, Zaros muttered, "Ridiculous."

There were several other whispered comments among the members of the Council but Obi-Wan ignored the restless audience. Justice would be done today.

"As you know, my Padawan has exceptional slicing skills, and on closer examination, she was able to determine that the files were corrupted. An embedded code in the files we found linked Qui-Gon to the murders. When the code was deleted, the files on the murders wiped clean and new data appeared. That there were no deaths. It was all a lie. From the very beginning."

The Bothan Master's eyes darkened in dismay, "No deaths?"

Xacor merely frowned and nodded, "Interesting…."

But it was Master Thartan who was most opposed to the idea. In fact, she looked furious. Her face a death-mask, her eyes black with insult, she snapped back, "Are you telling me that there were no murders? That the files you found and produced for this Council were lies? That you were so incompetent that you and your Padawan could not even tell that the files were corrupted? Ridiculous. You are making this up."

As her hands clawed at the nerfhide covering, she was half-rising from her chair. Then her mouth crabbed into certainty and she sat back with a thump. Her voice softened, asking almost of herself, "Or has he used his mind tricks on you? Can you even tell truth from the lies where he is concerned?"

Obi-Wan ignored her, was instead trying to stem the rising flood of questions. "Master, Masters, I know what we found. Do you doubt my word?"

Tharten seemed to recover her senses in time to say, "Yes, I do. Your foolish persistence in believing this rogue has lasted far too long."

Before Obi-Wan could answer, Master Veendo, his glistening snout wobbling with impatience, spat out, "And why should we believe you? If the files were corrupted, you may have corrupted them on purpose, to save your Master."

Obi-Wan jerked backwards, reacting as if he had been slapped. Drawing himself up, he faced his accusers squarely, as a true Jedi Knight should. "I would never do such a thing. Besides, my Padawan was there. You doubt her word as well?"

Sera Tharten looked at him for a moment with abject pity, and then gentled her reply, as though speaking to a child or one who had just woken from a terrifying nightmare. "She follows your lead, Obi-Wan. Of course, she would agree to go along with this if she thought it would help you. She has only your best interests at heart as I do. I cannot say the same for Jinn."

Pulling out the datacrystals from his pouch, he held them up, glistening stones pure as clear-water Naboo firegems, their prismatic colors flashing in the subdued light. "I have the files here, Master Thartan. They prove that what I am saying is true."

Suddenly Sle'fey put out his paw, "Very well, Kenobi. Hand them over." The conspicuous greed in his eyes was hard to ignore.

"As head of the Jedi Council, I should be the first to view them. Not you, Sle'fey." Master Tharten was adamant. Her palm was also outstretched, reaching for the crystals and the avarice in her face was no less intense than that of the Bothan Master.

As they stared at each other, Sle'fey gentled his tone but his paw remained open, ready to snatch the datafiles from Kenobi's grasp. "Sera, of course, you will see them. But as we have often discussed, my people are better equipped to handle datacrystals than yours. Especially if they have been corrupted. Master Xacor and I will go over the information with every method at our disposal. We will get to the heart of the matter."

Smiling, Tharten leaned back in her chair, fingers curled, waiting for the just right moment. "Don't be absurd, Trest. I have my own methods of cracking codes, much faster than your plodding assertions to the contrary. The datacrystals are mine by right."

The paw remained steady and open. "I believe that in this case, Master Xacor and I have jurisdiction." The beady eyes of the Bothan gleamed with certainty.

She stared at him for a long moment, looking as if she were trying to decide to push for her custody of the crystals or to bide her time and retrieve them later. The room was crowded with possibilities. "I am confident that you will find nothing that we do not already know, Trest. However, I will let Obi-Wan decide who should see the crystals first - a being such as Master Sle'fey who has often scorned his achievements and stifled his growth or someone who has only wanted him to reach his full potential. In all ways."

She smiled at Obi-Wan, looking confident that that he would accede to her demands. She reached out her hand. "Decide, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan blinked at the reversal of roles. Instead of argument and orders, he finally had a choice, a small one but it could mean the difference between life and death for his Master. Looking down at the crystals, he realized what a difficult decision it was.

He did not trust either Thartan or Sle'fey. Both had lied to him in the past, manipulated, forced him into roles that were repugnant and degrading and yet he had to trust one of them.

Closing his eyes, drawing in a deep breath to clear his body and his mind of emotion, he dove down into the currents of the Force. Deep, past the black swirls and red glows of darkness that were even now pulling at him within the Chambers of the Jedi Council, down into the clarity of pure energy, the wellspring of light. And yet still it was still hidden from him - the right choice. Perhaps there was no right choice, only the lesser of two bad choices. Perhaps he had to rely on instinct just this once.

He opened his eyes and dropped the crystals into the paw of Master Trest Sle'fey.


	42. Chapter 21: Arrests and protests part 3

**Chapter 21: Arrest and Protests**

**Part 3**

Looking almost stunned, the Bothan closed his fist around the datafiles, and nodded. "Knight Kenobi, you will not regret this, I promise you."

But as Sle'fey stuffed the datacrystals into his pouch, Master Tharten was furious. She spat out, "Foolish boy, that is a mistake that will cost you far more than you know." She sat back, her face hard as durasteel, set in lines of reprisal and ire. She stared at him, glare snake-bright and unblinking.

But Veendo seemed more annoyed than satisfied, huffing, "This will delay the case yet another day, a day that should have been devoted to more important matters."

Master Xacor nodded, "I agree that we will need additional time to ascertain the truth about the murderers but the report should be ready tomorrow. Will that suffice, Master Veendo?"

With a curt nod from the Rodian, Xacor continued, "However, the other charges are more clear-cut. Wouldn't you agree, Kenobi?"

Obi-Wan drew a deep breath. His instincts had told him that Master Sle'fey was the right choice to guard the datacrystals but that did not mean that he was not still afraid that he may have just made one of the biggest mistakes of his life. But the moment was gone and he could only press forward. There was no turning back now.

Speaking carefully, he said, "I believe that there are circumstances where..."

Grunting with annoyance, Representative Zaros looked from one Master to another before turning his attention back to the center of the room. Apparently, he had had enough of being ignored.

In a loud, flat voice, he interrupted Obi-Wan's explanation, "Jinn, your underling here," he ignored the blistering stares that several Masters sent his way, "has reported that you have been transporting slaves." Snorting in derision, he sneered, "Slaves, Jinn? That is certainly unexpected of a former Jedi, even with your rogue reputation. Clearly in violation of Republic law. Are you selling them on the open market or are you bringing them to a secondary broker for sale later?"

Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably. He knew that his old Master would not answer but he still hoped that Qui-Gon would change his mind. But that hope was in vain.

Qui-Gon Jinn stood there, silent and serene. His hands were still manacled in the blue-haze of cuffs, the slight lines of shock and color enveloping his wrists, cutting him off from the Living Force. He looked every part the very embodiment of a Jedi Master.

But he was a Jedi no longer. For a heartbeat, he ignored the crowd of eyes staring at him and gazed out into the darkened night. Then clear-eyed and serene, he bowed his head once and waited, silent, for judgment.

After a few moments, Sle'fey asked quietly, "Kenobi, does your Master realize just what trouble he is in?"

Obi-Wan closed his eyes for a moment, knowing that it was futile to argue with Qui-Gon once he has made up his mind, and then nodding toward the Bothan, he said simply, "Yes, he knows, Master Sle'fey. He refused to talk about it. But I believe that..."

But apparently Master Xacor was not so understanding. As head of the Hunter's Group and the division for Arrest and Punishment, he'd had years of experience dealing with those that broke the laws of the Order and the Republic they served, and instead of compassion, he only sounded annoyed with Qui-Gon's silence. "Your beliefs are irrelevant, Kenobi. I won't have this become a stain on the reputation of the Jedi Order. Without a defense, I will have no recourse but to sentence him to prison. Force-collared, naturally. We can't have him escaping with his abilities, now can we? Perhaps you can get him to see the light."

"I have tried already, Master Xacor." Obi-Wan did not bother to defend his Master's stand. It would do no good, in any case.

"Of course, if he gave us routes and buyers, we could lighten the sentence considerably." But Obi-Wan only shook his head. There would be no bargaining, not now.

Master Xacor waved his hand to brush aside such stubborn foolishness. "Ah well, silence is not always wise, Jinn. We will revisit this issue tomorrow when the files have been analyzed."

An annoyed humph cut off discussion. Thartan shook her head, dismissing these petty concerns. "There is a more important issue than the slaves, Master Xacor. Lightsabers were found at his office in clear violation of Republic Law."

"Yes, Master Tharten. But there..."

As Obi-Wan began to protest, she cut him off with a sharp, "Do you have them with you?"

Nodding slightly, he gestured for Atel to bring out the only hard, damning evidence of all the accusations this day. As she fumbled with the three lightsabers, their gleaming metal casings a subtle counterpoint in the darkened gloom, Obi-Wan said, "These were found in Master Jinn's office."

It hurt to say it but it was the truth and he would not hide beneath lies at this late date.

Tharten's black eyes watched with hunger as Atel displayed the sabers, the Councilor's blue hands reaching out and back again as if to capture the prizes for her own. But in the end, she said reluctantly, "They belong with Master Xacor, Padawan Sl'etah."

Throwing a look of concern toward Obi-Wan, Atel whispered a quick, "I'm sorry, Master." Then she handed over the lightsabers and moved back into place.

He could only nod, knowing that there would be more questions and more accusations from the ring of Jedi Masters. And to his sorrow, Atel was not on his side in this. But that knotted problem would have to wait for another time and place. What mattered now was how to get his Master out of this gundark nest alive.

It did not take long for the confrontation to begin.

"Any explanation, Jinn?" The skin on Tharten's face began to take on a purplish cast, as amusement replaced anger in her eyes. Her smile never wavered as she watched Qui-Gon standing there silent and still.

When no answer was heard and it was clear she had expected none, she leaned back in her chair and, steepling her fingertips against her lips in thought for a moment, she turned her gaze back on Obi-Wan. "Well, Kenobi, you seem to have all the answers today. Proceed."

He sent a look of exasperation laced with sorrow towards Qui-Gon. He knew that there was no excuse that could mitigate the solid evidence against his old mentor. But he had to try. "Master Jinn has told me of attacks against the Bendu group, that they have been hunted down and murdered without cause. I could see that they might want to have weapons to defend themselves."

Xacor would not let that pass. "Not relevant, Kenobi. He's committed a crime by owning these. And will be punished accordingly."

"I must disagree, Master Xacor," Sle'fey interrupted quickly. "I, too, am concerned about the so-called murders of the Bendu. This may tie in with the hundreds of other former Jedi killed across the galaxy." His voice rose in frustration, "The committee investigating this has only met a few times but the devastating losses must be stopped. And any information that Kenobi has uncovered may be of use to us."

Obi-Wan was relieved to hear it, so very relieved. He had thought that Sle'fey was merely hiding the truth from the Jedi Order for his own reasons. After all, the Bothan had told him to say nothing to anyone within the Order and yet here he was, bringing all that pain, that incredible loss out into the light. The flush of hope began to rise in his throat. "I could not agree more, Master Sle'fey. I believe that if we contact the Bendu group, we should be able to exchange information and track down the killer." Perhaps when he had handed over the datacrystals, he had chosen well after all.

But his hopes were dashed a moment later when Master Tharten spat out, "Contact the Bendu group? Kenobi, that is… have you any idea of how ridiculous that sounds? Surely, you must realize that we think that someone in the Bendu group is the likely killer."

As Qui-Gon closed his eyes in sorrow at this turn of events, Obi-Wan's startled rasp echoed through the rafters of the Council Chamber. "What?"

He could not believe what he was hearing. Was there nothing that the Jedi Order would not twist into darkness?

Her smile grew wider. She seemed to drink in the despair, almost as if it were fine wine and a rare vintage at that. "We have been tracking our own operatives ever since we became aware of this problem. None of them had the motive or the opportunity to kill former Jedi. Yet lightsabers were used in the murders."

Sle'fey protested, "Sera, we have come to no conclusion at this time."

But she spat back, "Who else uses that kind of weaponry?" Her eyes glittered with fervor even as her finger pointed directly at Qui-Gon. Face flushed, she snarled out, "Only Bendu. And Jinn knows who it is."

"That's ridiculous. The Bendu are being murdered as well. And why would Bendu kill Jedi? They were Jedi before the Order discarded them." Obi-Wan fumbled forward, voice rising in anger at this absurdity.

Echoes of whispered questions and pointed retorts began to fill the room as the Jedi Council took in this latest accusation.

Master Tharten's vindictiveness poured out. "We only have Jinn's word that Bendu have died. Perhaps he is making it up to divert attention from his secret society and their activities. As for killing Jedi discards, why would I know what they thought or planned? They refused to join in the Bendu plot, perhaps or they were going to expose the Bendu before they were ready to reveal themselves?" She flung out her arm in exasperation. "But the Bendu are the prime suspects. As head of the group, Jinn would have to be in on the plot."

As Atel stepped away in confusion, Obi-Wan turned to Qui-Gon, one hand on his arm, pleading, "Master, it is your life. You have to tell them the truth."

"Obi-Wan, it is already too late." And he refused to say anything else.

Master Tharten stood and began to pace the room, pausing at each of the Master's chairs until she stood tall and straight beside Senate Representative Zaros. She smiled down into his sweating face, all sneers and rancor-rabid smiles. And with each step, she fired off her accusations.

"Really, Jinn, this silent treatment is wearing thin. We want answers. Who made the lightsabers? Do all the Bendu agents have them? What are the Bendu planning to do with them? Have you been hunting Jedi? Have you been killing them for revenge? Death to all those who would oppose you? Or perhaps an overthrow of the Jedi Order itself?

Obi-Wan could not stand by and listen to this. "Master Thartan, surely you can't believe that Qui-Gon would do that."

She spread her hands wide, gathering all attention to her. Around the room, the silence was deafening. "Oh, but I do, Kenobi. And I'm not sure you aren't in the plot as well. It would fit. The murder victims were easily killed and someone knew just where they were. How much easier it would be to use insider information." And she was staring straight at Obi-Wan.

He stepped back, stunned at such a ridiculous accusation. It was not possible that they could think this of him. He had done their bidding for over a decade, following the will of the Council, trying to find a way to fulfill his oath and still walk in the light. He had been loyal to the Order, and yet, and yet, when he looked around the room, the shuttered faces and hard eyes told a different story.

He let out the breath that he didn't know he was holding. "Master Tharten, Masters, I would never do that. It would go against the Code, against my honor and my duty to the Jedi Order. I…."

But she was not listening. She turned away for a moment and then smacked her hand down hard on the back of her chair. The sharp sound ricocheted around the room like blaster fire.

"Don't lie about it to us, Kenobi. Your sad devotion to that old fool has earned you nothing but pain in the last ten years. You have sacrificed a place on this Council for him. You have gone against our wishes again and again because of his tainted teachings. Foolish boy. Even now, you show yourself to be nothing but his puppet."

"I am no one's puppet." Obi-Wan drew himself up, durasteel strong. "Least of all yours."

He had never seen the woman so furious. For a moment, clouds of darkness were alive in her eyes, coal-red rage seeping into her skin. She sank down into her chair, her hands playing with the nerfhide, tearing into the covering with ferocious claws. But as he watched, she grew still and the fiery anger was wrapped under shields of ice.

Flat, unemotional, her voice was sharp as an obsidian blade and as precise. "Since the Jedi Council must be fully informed about the Bendu and since Master Jinn has been unable or unwilling to tell us about his past and his present dealings with the Bendu, I suggest that he be given some time to think about his position."

Obi-Wan could feel the danger approaching, lightning-fast and just as deadly. He took a quick step forward but Tharten was not quite finished.

"It is the judgment of this Council, my judgment, that Master Jinn be placed in the Force-dampened cell, AA23, until he is willing to answer any and all questions put before him."

Obi-Wan turned pale, his face hurt with memories - that cell, where the Force was no comfort, where every fear swallowed reason, the cell where there was no hope, only terror. They were sending Qui-Gon to that cell.

"Master Tharten, you can't be serious." Obi-Wan was more afraid for his old Master than he had ever been before. That dark place could lead to madness.

"Oh, but I am, Kenobi." She seemed to delight in the idea. "And if you are not careful, you could join him there."

Obi-Wan snarled out, "You can't do this."

Master Sle'fey protested past Obi-Wan's words. "Sera, I don't think..."

She snapped back, her eyes blazing with inner darkness, "No, you don't think, Sle'fey. You cannot let this kind of rebellious behavior pass. It is more than just about a mission gone bad. This is about the very Order itself. We must know what the Bendu are planning. And Jinn is the key."

As she signaled for the Hunter's group to enter the room and escort the prisoner into the depths of the Temple, Obi-Wan was still trying to prevent this travesty, "This is not justice. You can't."

But Atel was no longer silent. It was obvious that she did not want to see him punished for Jinn's crimes. Grabbing onto his cloak with both hands, she seemed frantic with worry. "Master, please. You can't help him like this. You will only get into more trouble."

He snarled back, jerking out of her grasp and looking at her with loathing, "Padawan, if you believe that I would stand by and let an innocent man be punished because of me, because of my report, then you don't know me at all."

Stepping back abruptly, her eyes were filled with sudden tears. "Master, please don't."

But Obi-Wan turned away, just in time to see the phalanx of the guards roughly herd his old Master from the heart of the Council Chamber toward the door. He looked frantically about the room, trying to stop this somehow. But the faces that stared back were without mercy - and hard as stone.

He had to try.

Spying the Bothan Master gazing thoughtfully at Tharten, Obi-Wan called out to him, pleading for a return to sanity, "Please, Master Sle'fey, please you can't allow her to do this. It is not the Jedi way."

Turning back to Obi-Wan, Sle'fey looked odd, resigned but with a hint of satisfaction gleaming in the depths of his dark eyes and the slow furred swirl of anticipation. The curl of his muzzle was cruelty itself. He shifted his shoulders, leaning into his Council seat as if settling back for another boring hour of Council meetings and began to study his clawtips, ignoring Obi-Wan's panicked face.

Finally, he drawled out, "I'm sorry, Kenobi, but Jinn will survive. And it may bring out the truth at last." And then he deliberately looked away and began to whisper some nonsense to Representative Zaros.

With that, Qui-Gon Jinn was pushed out through the bronzium doors. As the portal began to close, he sent back one final heartfelt glance of acceptance and love to his old Padawan before he stumbled out of sight.

And then the grinding clank of shuttered metal boomed in the vaulted Chamber of the most wise Councilors of the Jedi Order.

Obi-Wan stood, stunned, staring at the gleaming doors as if he could somehow melt his way past them, past the guards and rescue his Master before it was too late. Too late.

Pale, shaking with disbelief, he murmured, "No, don't do this." But all his appeals were in vain. And as he stepped back into the center of the Chamber of the Jedi Council, he knew he could do nothing else.

Pulling out his lightsaber, he placed it on the gritty floor. "I will not be party to this. To your need for vengeance, to your disdain for the rights of others, to your lust for power. I will not submit to this, this travesty of injustice. I will resign from the Jedi and seek justice in the courts."

As he backed away, Sle'fey stared at him, an astonished universe of concern glinting in his dark eyes. Clearly, he had not expected this turn of events. He started to rise but Tharten waved him back down.

Breaking through the wall of silence that crowded the room, she spat out, "Don't be ridiculous, Kenobi. We can't let you go." She looked around at the other Masters, her arms flung out in annoyance, "You are too valuable a resource to the Jedi Order. You will get over this foolish emotional attachment to that old rogue in due time."

But he was not listening. He was about to turn away and leave when Atel whirled around, grabbing his cloak, and blinking up into his stormy eyes. "What do you think you are doing? Have you gone mad?"

It hurt to speak. He could not remember just who she was or what hold she had on his conscience. He could only see the resignation in the blue eyes of the only father he had ever known. Frowning down into her pinched face, he sighed, "No, I have finally become sane after years of madness."

She tightened her grip, shaking him. "You are throwing your life away for a criminal." Her voice rose in indignation and frantic desperation. "Wake up to this, Master. He is not worth your sacrifice."

Jerking back, he stepped away from her and gestured wildly toward Sle'fey and Tharten. "They stain the very name of the Jedi Order. They, those rshhak fools, would sacrifice him on their altar of control. They speak of nobility and honor and duty, fair words, but there is no substance there - just control."

"He broke the law, Master. Surely you can understand this." She was frantic, pulling at his sleeve, trying to get him to calm enough to see his way clear.

He just snapped out, "You think this is about Qui-Gon? No, Atel, no, not any more. They sit in their crumbling towers and let Jedi die, the people they have sworn to protect. They have discarded thousands of beings, thousands! All the while they pursue security and control. They speak well of honor and duty but the lies shine through. They know nothing of the ways of the Jedi."

Even as he turned once more towards the doors, there were guards there and Masters Xacor and Sle'fey and Tharten. And their eyes all burned with determination. He was trapped.

The harsh rasp of Tharten's anger coated her words with venom, spitting poison into the air. "Obi-Wan Kenobi, you have insulted the most high Councilors of the Jedi Order. You have shown that you are in league with Qui-Gon Jinn, a known criminal and potential murderer. We may also bring charges linking you with the rogue group of Jedi known as Bendu." She narrowed her eyes, gesturing for Atel to move away.

Obi-Wan stood there, swaying slightly. It was so unreal, a nightmare from which he could not awake. Blinking furiously, he tried to listen as Tharten intoned, "Because of your long association with the Jedi Order, we will give you time to think this over. If you will confess your actions and cooperate, you may be reinstated with the Order at our discretion. Until then, you will join your Master in cell AA23."

He began to shake. The walls of the rooms seemed to swim in wavering patterns of reds and greens and turn sickeningly inward.

He couldn't. He couldn't go back there. Not again. Oh, Force, not again.

But he did not resist when the guards grabbed his arms and thrust him through the door. He did not pull away as they shoved and prodded and forced him further and further from the room. As he looked back one last time, he could see his Padawan, face streaked with tears, sobbing against Tharten's arm. Beyond, Sle'fey leaned down to pick up Obi-Wan's lightsaber and then stared after him, black eyes unreadable and flat.

Then with a bone-deep metallic groan, the sound burrowing into flesh and heart and spirit, the doors clanged shut.


	43. Chapter 22: Guardians of peace part 1

**Chapter 22 – Guardians of Peace and Justice**

**Part 1**

"Master, _no_." Atel shivered in Master Tharten's arms, her vision wavering in the dim light. She could not believe that Obi-Wan, her Master, the most caring person she had ever known, was even now being dragged like some criminal into the bowels of the Jedi Temple.

She should have listened to him. He had told her that he was trapped. The day they left on the mission, he had told her that he didn't want to do this. She hadn't believed him, thought he was exaggerating or more tired than he would admit but he had been right. It had been a debacle from the moment they had been handed this assignment. Her Master had gone from being one of the foremost operatives of the Jedi Order, respected and admired among the Knights and Padawans at the Temple, to a prisoner in a single disastrous week, and unbelievably all because he had tried to defend his old Master.

And how could he not? Ties of a long and happy partnership, of devotion and the love of a son for the father of his heart would all drive him to this moment, to save Jinn even from himself no matter the cost.

Could she do any less for the father of _her_ heart?

She knew that she had to go to Obi-Wan, to try and undo this disaster before it was too late. Yet even as she began to tug free and follow, the blue-skinned Councilor just tightened her grip. "There, child, hush. All will be well. Master Kenobi will come to see reason in time."

Atel barely heard the words. Her eyes stared unblinking at the closed bronzium doors as though by sheer will she would be able to open them, would be able to fight off his guards and make them all see what was right and just, would...

But even as she tried to escape Tharten's harsh grasp, even as she took in one ragged breath after another, she realized that it would not work. They would never listen to a mere Padawan, certainly not to _his_ Padawan.

Yet she could not stand there and let them hurt Obi-Wan. Her voice was unsteady as she whispered, "Please, Master Tharten, please help him. He's only doing what he thinks is right."

"Padawan, I am aware that he thinks he is doing the right thing." The older woman drew back, patting Atel's arm in a gesture of comfort and support. "But perhaps he is not well. After all, no one in their right mind would insult the High Council and think they could get away with it."

"He didn't mean... it's just... Master Tharten, please, I can make him see reason. I did it before. I can do it again." She knew that she was babbling but she couldn't seem to stop. "Please don't send him down there. He... he hates it there."

For a moment, Atel thought she saw a predatory glint in the Councilor's eyes - almost as if Tharten was enjoying the pain in her voice, the thought of Obi-Wan's torment. But when she looked again, there was nothing but sympathy in the Master's face.

With a gentle shake, the older woman let Atel go. "I know, child. I, too, wish that he would see reason. If we only knew the truth about this mission, things might be different." Master Tharten leaned down slightly, her gaze strong and sharp as a vibroblade. "I know that it is difficult, Padawan, but he needs to understand his position here. The time in that cell will do him little harm and may make him more cooperative."

Atel backed away from the doors, away from Tharten, and looked around at the hard faces - Sle'fey watching the scene with an undecipherable expression, Xacor frowning in distaste and Zaros smirking, the others a kaleidoscope of expression from uninterested to contempt. She shuddered at the sight.

She realized that there would be no help, not without sacrifice. And she would do what she must to save him.

With hesitant steps, ignoring the crunch of cracked stone beneath her feet and the harsh rasp of her own breath, she moved to the center of the Chamber. She could feel the weight of stares following her but she ignored them. And then, in one fluid movement, she knelt down and bowed her head, penitent.

The room was mute with astonishment. No one knelt before the High Council, not unless they were criminals begging for mercy or murderers shoved onto the floor for final sentencing. Even her Master had not used such a tactic to sway them.

From behind her, she could hear Master Sle'fey talking urgently with someone, possibly Master Tharten or Zaros - she could not tell. Then the room began to fill with other voices, snippets of conversation, hurried whispers, arguments hissing sharp and strident, the biting comments.

"What does she think she is doing?" and "She may be of use to us" and "She needs to learn her place". The Council Chamber resonated with discord.

Through it all, Atel knelt at the very heart of the Jedi Order, and stared unseeing, down at her hands, waiting.

At last, Master Tharten called for order, prodding the Council back into session. One by one, the members of the High Council took their seats, and when Representative Zaros dropped ungraciously into the central chair, Master Tharten motioned for silence. Her voice was tired, almost indifferent as she sighed, "Padawan Sl'etah, you have something further to say?"

Carefully, still not looking at the Jedi Masters, she leaned forward, her hands splayed wide, and touched her forehead to the broken tiles.

"Take me instead."

"What are you talking about, child? You are not making any sense." She could hear Master Sle'fey shifting impatiently in his seat and the annoyed grate of his voice as he spat out, "Get up, Padawan. You do yourself no good scrabbling about the floor. Get up and face us."

Slowly as if it hurt to move, she pushed back, and with infinite care, rose to her feet. Swaying with weariness, she wiped absentmindedly at her face. She was very alone.

"Masters, please. I offer an exchange. Let me take Master Obi-Wan's place."

Sle'fey turned almost grey beneath his mat of white fur and there was a snicker of derision from the bejeweled Zaros. Xacor frowned his concern. From the corner of her eye, Atel could see the other Masters squirming in surprise.

Master Tharten merely sat back in her chair, steepling her fingers together, and stared at Atel. The blue-skinned Councilor seemed to ponder this seriously for a moment and then asked, "And how will that help this Council? After all, it was his defiance that led to his incarceration."

Atel gathered her strength, nodding as if she knew the question before it had even been asked. "Master Obi-Wan won't give in, not to save himself. Not even to avoid that place. Surely you must know this."

She watched as Tharten and Sle'fey exchanged significant glances. From behind her, the buzz of whispered conversations rose into white noise and dispute. But the sounds quieted as she continued, "But if someone else, someone that he cared about, was punished because of his actions, he might reconsider." She bowed her head again. "Please, Masters, I can't bear it. He's been hurt enough."

"Padawan, this does you credit but you must realize that we cannot allow this. He must accept that he alone is to blame and he alone should be punished for his actions." Xacor's voice sounded almost apologetic, and when Atel looked up, she could see regret in his eyes. But it was only a moment's regret before it morphed back into apathy.

Desperate to break through their seeming indifference to her Master's fate, she begged, "I will do anything you ask, tell you anything you want to know but please don't hurt him." She looked from one to another in desperation. "Please."

Tharten's reply was thoughtful. "Anything?"

Beyond, fragments of conversation echoed in the Council Chamber. She could hear Master Sle'fey reminding her to remain calm and Master Veendo's contempt.

Master Xacor was impatient. "Let her talk. It may give us insight into this mess and whatever Jinn was trying to hide." The rest merged into noisy debate.

Kenth Zaros just rolled his eyes in annoyance.

Master Tharten raised her hands to bring back silence into the room. Then she stared at Atel, as if trying to gauge just how sincere she truly was. She spoke carefully, slowly enough that no one could mistake her words, "Padawan, if you are willing to tell us the truth about this mission, to tell us everything you know about Jinn and the Bendu, we are prepared to be lenient with your Master."

When Atel nodded eagerly, Councilor Tharten continued, "But he must still submit to our demands when he comes before us again. Will you do your duty to the Order?" She seemed to be making it clear that there would be no further bargaining.

Atel could not get out the words fast enough. "Yes, Master Tharten, yes, anything. Just please, don't leave him there."

With that, Sera Tharten, head of the most high Jedi Council, leaned back, apparently satisfied, and nodded to Master Sle'fey for the questioning to begin.

"Very well, Padawan. Start with the murders." With a diffident wave of his claws and an irritable huff, Sle'fey seemed almost uninterested in the proceedings.

Atel took a deep breath, centering herself, and said, "Master Sle'fey, there were no murders. Master Obi-Wan was telling the truth. The datacrystals he gave you will prove that it was all a lie." Standing a little taller, she lifted her chin. "I cracked the code myself."

Xacor's frown told of his annoyance at covering old ground. "Kenobi said the same thing."

She grew hesitant at that. She knew that it was late and the Masters were already disinclined to listen further - they were all restlessness and radiated indifference - but she had to free Obi-Wan. She had their attention for the moment. She would just have to do her best to make them see that her Master did not deserve to be imprisoned. He had done his duty and now she would do hers. She only hoped that it would be enough.

Stiffening with resolve, she nodded. "Yes, Master Xacor, I know but it is the truth. Once you've looked at the crystals, you will know, without a doubt, that Master Jinn was framed. We never could detect who had done such a thing; it was someone with strong slicing skills and access to holonet security files but we were not able to trace it back to the source. The code was well-hidden."

That seemed to catch Master Xacor's attention. His eyes narrowed in thought. "Slicers have their uses. Kenobi said it was all a lie. So someone deliberately framed Jinn, then? Who was it? Did he know?"

She shook her head. "No, Master Xacor. Master Jinn said that it could be anyone. Apparently, he and the Bendu have many enemies."

"I'm sure they do." Master Xacor stared at her, searching for deception, and when he could find none, he sat back in his chair and lazily brushed at his woolen robe. Pulling on a thread that seemed to be unraveling even as he spoke, almost ignoring her distress, he said, "As we told your Master, Master Sle'fey and I will study the crystals and come to our own conclusions."

Grief tugged at her chest while she watched him playing with the cloth. It would appear that a ragged sleeve was more important than a man's life in the Council of the most High. But she swallowed her misery and replied, "Yes, Master Xacor."

"The datacrystals are irrelevant. When they have been decoded, we will know the truth. There is a more important issue here." The Rodian, slimy with irritation and sweat, said sharply, "Kenobi did not explain why Jinn was dealing in slaves."

She turned to face the green-skinned Master. She was grateful that he was, at least, paying attention. "Master Veendo, my Master was unable to find a direct link to the slave markets. Master Jinn would fly beings into Naboo from Tatooine and Ryloth, apparently with the correct paperwork, and then they would disappear."

His bulbous eyes glistened with contempt. "Very convenient for a slaver."

Atel shook her head. "Master Obi-Wan did not believe that his Master was a slaver."

Waving his webbed hands at the rest of the room, gathering looks of weary amusement or disinterest from his fellow Councilors, Veendo spat back, "Kenobi is a fool if he thinks that. What else could Jinn be, but a slave trader and a criminal?"

"I...," Atel hesitated. She knew that her Master should have reported his suspicions about the runaway safe routes when they first found out about Jinn's passengers. She knew that Obi-Wan had wanted to make sure of his evidence before he said anything, that there was no real proof. But with the Council so antagonistic, it could be twisted into something much darker. They could imprison him for being a conspirator, perhaps even a partner in this.

She would have to tread carefully.

"He accused Mace Windu, the head of the Bendu organization, of smuggling slaves into Naboo so that they could be freed. My Master thought that there might be several locations on Naboo where the runaways could hide until the slave hunters had left."

Zaros exploded with fury. Banging his hand on the chair's armrest - the sharp sound like a crack of a whip on skin, he shrilled back, "These Bendu are no better than slavers then. Helping runaway slaves. Flaunting the laws of the Republic like that. It's completely unacceptable." Then with an irate grunt, he rose to his feet and began stomping back and forth, muttering to himself.

Stepping back, startled by his vehemence, Atel swallowed hard and cleared her throat. "Yes, Representative Zaros, but we never found any proof. And both Masters Windu and Jinn refused to say."

He stopped abruptly, and pointing one bejeweled finger at her, he snapped, "We will get to the bottom of this. I will arrange for the Committee on Slave-Trading Consortiums to begin an investigation into this Bendu cult. This is outrageous that Jedi, even dismissed ones, would have the gall to mock the law."

Then he twisted around and marched straight for Master Tharten. Stopping just inches from her chair, putting his hands on his hips and puffing out his chest in a deliberate attempt to intimidate, he snarled, "Tharten, you and your Jedi Council shall be held personally responsible if this is true. You should have better control of your people."

The head of the most High Council of the Jedi Order seemed to be unimpressed. Frowning sharply, she looked at the bureaucrat with hardly-concealed contempt and pointed out, "They are not our people any more, Representative Zaros, and you know it. They were cast out long ago. We cannot be expected to govern their lives once they are beyond our reach."

He huffed at the older woman, glaring ice-daggers that promised retribution if his wishes were not carried out to his satisfaction and quickly. "Well someone will pay. I refuse to have the Republic blamed for this."

Backing up and turning around slowly, he deliberately stared at the other Councilors, catching each of them in his gaze. "I suggest that you find out quickly the extent of this travesty and put an end to it. Or the Senate will have to look again at your funding and perhaps reexamine the personal files of the members of the Jedi Council. In detail."

Sle'fey held up his paw, patting the air to try and calm the rising tempers. He glared a moment at Tharten and then spoke gently, soothingly to the rat-faced Zaros. "Representative... Kenth, please. Of course, the Bendu are to blame, not the Republic and certainly not the Jedi. But you may be assured that we will investigate this thoroughly and turn over the criminals for justice according to the law."

With a huff and one last glare at Tharten, the bureaucrat sat back down in his chair. Still irritated, he demanded to know, "And what about this Bendu cult? What do they want?"

Atel hesitated for a moment. She did not want Zaros to twist the truth but when all turned to her expectantly, she stumbled on, "Master Windu was most gracious about showing us around. He answered all of our questions about their organization and goals. Showed us the classrooms and training center, the crop farm. Explained about where they get their money and how they disperse it. He was very emphatic that the Bendu organization was not competing with the Jedi Order, that they were helping those in need, that the Bendu were not the guardians of peace and justice and were happy that the Jedi continued to be so. He also stated that the Bendu were not in violation of any Republic law."

"Until the lightsabers were discovered." The flat tone in Master Tharten's voice spoke of indignation but underneath, there was just a touch of satisfaction, as if she were enjoying this far too much.

Swallowing her unease, Atel nodded. "Yes, until then. But I was there when they were found and Master Windu was surprised, very surprised. I'm not sure he was aware of them. And Master Jinn stated that it was his fault and his alone that the lightsabers were hidden in his office. I'm not sure if he was telling the truth or not. But Master Windu was livid."

With that, Master Tharten just grunted, "What else, Padawan?"

She shook her head and bowed. She was finished with her report and now all she wanted to do was get back to the promise of Obi-Wan's release. This inquest had taken more time than she had wished. Too long. "There is nothing else, Master. My Master gave you most of the information earlier in his first report from Naboo and then today during..."

The Zabrak Master interrupted, waving Atel's explanation away, "Yes, during that rather nasty business. But you have yet to tell us about the Bendu agents."

"Master?" She was taken aback. "What agents?"

Xacor glared at her for a moment. Apparently, the thought of hunting Bendu was refueling his interest; at least, he had stopped playing with his ragged sleeve. "Were you able to find out if the Bendu have been hunting the dismissed ones? After all, quite a few of former Jedi have been killed and we have no explanation other than a bunch of lightsaber-wielding Bendu roaming the galaxy."

Impatient to see her Master again and frustrated with this over-long interrogation, she was less prudent than was wise. "If you had just listened..." But as soon as she saw Xacor's sallow face grow stark with indignation, she gentled her tone. "My apologies, Master Xacor, Masters, but it is just not possible. The people we talked to were horrified about the deaths and they accused the Jedi of killing the Bendu. If neither group is doing this, who is?"

The Zabrak shot her back a withering look. It was obvious that he was not amused by her tone, her manner or her answers. "That is what we are asking you, Padawan. Is there anything that was said during the whole of your mission that could lead to information about the deaths?"

Gulping back her anxiety, she stammered, "No, Master, nothing... but..."

"What is it, Padawan Sl'etah?" Tharten leaned forward, eager to hear what she had to say. "Speak up, child."

"Something odd that Master Jinn told Master Obi-Wan. They thought I was asleep." Atel looked away, out into the dark sky beyond the unwashed windows, gazing at the luminescent glow of traffic winging free against the backdrop of ebony night. For a moment, she said nothing, thinking of her Master and his, of how they seemed to be close even after all those years apart, of how they had whispered together like family - of how she had almost driven her Master away with her jealousy.

She would try to make it right somehow. Somehow.

Then blinking, she turned her attention back to the matter at hand. "Master Tharten, you had accused my Master of insider information, of helping the Bendu hunt down and kill Jedi. But it was not possible. My Master and I are rarely at the Temple and we didn't know about the killings until these last few days but..."

"But?" Tharten's dark eyes seemed to bore into hers, willing her to speak of secrets and Bendu and Jinn.

"You were right about one thing. I heard Master Jinn tell Master Obi-Wan that the Bendu had inside information about the dismissed ones. That once the six month observations were up, the Bendu got a list of former Jedi and where they were." Atel waited for the reaction that was sure to follow. She did not have long to wait.

"What?!" Stunned, the Council seemed to sputter into cacophony. There were no bored faces now, no apathy, nothing but astonishment and concern, even the faintest glimmer of dread.

Atel went on calmly, shrugging off the rising noise, "Master Jinn said that they were able to rescue quite a few former Jedi once the data started coming in. He said that before the information was available, they were often too late to help."

The Councilors were all babbling at once but she could clearly hear Master Tharten growl out, "A traitor amongst us? This is intolerable."

Sle'fey called for calm at this latest revelation but it was a few moments before silence fell. Staring pointedly at Atel, his fur swirling with emotion, the Council seemed to hold their collective breath as he demanded, "And the name of this informant?"

"Master Jinn did not know." Atel just shook her head. "But he was grateful for the knowledge. It saved many lives."

"Was he lying to Kenobi?" Master Veendo glared at her, his snout wet with outrage and anxiety.

"I don't know, Master, I just don't know."

Master Tharten drew herself up, her head held high as she said, clear and very sure. "We will find this person and deal with them to the fullest extent of the law. The justice of the Jedi will prevail."

All around her, the other members of the High Council nodded their approval. Sle'fey and Xaros looked particularly pleased with the outcome and exchanged significant looks of satisfaction. Even Zaros seemed happy, all animosity gone.

Atel knew that this was her moment. While the Council was still of one mind and gratified with her report, she needed to remind them of the reason she was standing before them, of the need to free her Master from that awful place before another minute had passed. He had already been there far too long.

Schooling her face into one of humility and humble requests, she stepped out of the heart of the chamber towards Master Tharten. Bowing as deeply as she could and then rising to meet the eyes of the head of the High Council, she said, "Master, Masters, I have told you everything I know. I have done my duty."

The blue-skinned woman watched her with interest. "Indeed you have, child and well done. You may return to your quarters until you are needed." At that, Tharten turned away, leaning towards Representative Zaros.

Masters Veendo, Numb and Xacor began to talk among themselves. As the other councilors started to rise from their seats, clearly finished with the business of the day, Atel just stood there, shocked - but not for long.

"Masters..." Atel was desperate. She stepped forward again, her hands rising in entreaty, looking about the room at the startled faces. "Please, you promised that if I cooperated, you would be merciful to my Master. I beg you to release him. Confine him to quarters if you must but please let him out of that cell."

Master Tharten waved her fellow councilors back into their seats. With a deep sigh and regret, she shrugged her shoulders, looking at Atel with some small apology. "That we cannot do, Padawan. He needs to understand just who he is dealing with."

"Masters, please..." Her heart almost stopped beating; they had lied to her, drawing her out with false promises, and then when they were done, she was dismissed without thought.

As if she were reading Atel's mind, Tharten's eyes narrowed and her voice hardened into ice. "I do not need to remind you that we have done as we promised. To be lenient and we have done so."

When Atel looked horrified and thoroughly lost, the Councilor softened slightly, nodding toward her in a show of sympathy. "Padawan, normally, we would leave him imprisoned until he repented his words. Because of our promise to you, a night in the cell will suffice. Besides, it will not harm him overmuch. First thing tomorrow, after the datacrystals have been analyzed and confirmed, we will interrogate him further. If he has repented by then, this incident will be forgiven."

"But Masters..." She knew the protest would be in vain but she had to try.

But trying did not work and only made the Master indignant. Slapping her chair with the flat of her hand, the sharp sound cracking across the room and startling Atel into silence, Tharten glared at her. "Enough, Padawan Sl'etah. You forget your place. If you persist, we could lengthen his stay."

She swallowed hard and lowered her head in surrender. "No, Master. I'm... forgive me."

The older woman sent Atel a measuring look and then turned away. "Councilors and our good friend, Representative Zaros, it's been a long day and Masters Sle'fey and Xacor still have much work to do. This session of the High Council of the Jedi Order is concluded."

As Atel twisted around, hoping to leave without notice and go back to her quarters for a very long meditative session in releasing her anger and frustration, she was stopped by Master Tharten. "Padawan, attend me."

She followed the Councilor out into the hallway, quietly trailing behind as befitted a Jedi Padawan, silent and attentive. She did not dare speak for fear of angering the woman further. She had already seen that pushing Master Tharten was unwise; she knew that she could not take the risk again.

The realization that her Master could have been punished for her impatience and foolhardy attempts at freeing him still clawed at her.

It was a little time later that they reached one of the Tower balconies retained for the Council's use. As the doors closed behind them, the sheltering walls let in the gentle song of wind and far-off traffic. A few dark shapes, growing things in black round pots, quivered slightly in the breeze. From beyond the balcony's edge, Atel could see the glowing dome of the Senate and the shimmering jewels of apartment complexes scattered about, a glorious radiance of luminescent energy. As she tilted her head up, laser-straight lines of light - speeders and transports of all kinds, treasure flying away to distant lands and safety - illuminated the sky. She could almost feel at peace here. Almost.

Master Tharten waved one hand over a small panel near the door and soft glows came on, lighting the space. She stood there a moment, frowning worriedly at Atel, and then beckoned to the young woman. When she stopped an arm's length away, Sera Tharten reached out and picked up Atel's braid and stared at the many colored threads adorning it.

Atel didn't know what to do so she just stood there as the Councilor looked down at the thin line of hair, seemingly lost in thought. Finally, the older woman sighed and let the braid fall away from her fingertips.

"May I speak frankly, Padawan?" The Jedi Master moved to the edge of the balcony, and leaning on the balustrade, motioned Atel to her side. Her eyes were dark with sympathy and concern. "Your Master is on the brink of a disastrous mistake. If he does not accede to the wishes of the Council, we will be forced to let him go and he may be arrested. I'm sure you don't want that."

Shaking her head, she stammered back, "No, but Master Obi-Wan is only acting in his own conscience."

The Councilor smiled slightly, nodding her agreement. "And to be admired for it but he does himself injury by defending Jinn."

"I..." Atel drew back a little. She didn't know what to say, what to think any more. Was Master Tharten actually on her Master's side?

Tharten moved closer, her voice gentle and radiating compassion, and touched Atel's hand briefly in sympathy, a motherly pat of understanding. "Think carefully, child. You have brought us evidence, hard evidence, that Jinn is guilty of crimes against the Republic. And your foolish Master is an accessory after the fact by hiding the truth from the Council. There is only so much we can do for him before the Senate will take matter into its own hands."

Her voice seemed to catch slightly as she murmured, "He did nothing wrong."

Looking at her with resignation in her eyes, Sera Tharten said, "Atel, please. Your Master has been blinded by his love for that rogue for far too many years. I would have thought that he would have realized the truth by now. But he refuses to accept reality." She shook her head slowly. Atel could almost see the admiration and regret in her face - as if a beloved child had done something incredibly foolish and now he had to be rescued once again. "You can help him."

"Master Tharten, I don't see how. I beg your pardon but the Council has only made things worse by punishing him for it."

Resigned, the Councilor nodded wearily. "He made that choice, by defending Jinn, by hiding the truth. And he knows that he can be released at any time if he would just ask." Softly, she chuckled, "He is too stubborn for his own good."

A brief shy smile was all Atel could give in return and she shrugged. "Yes, he is. But I'm not sure."

Tharten leaned in again, close, and with rough urgency in her voice. One blue hand grabbed at Atel's ragged sleeve, holding her fast. It would seem that the Councilor wanted only the best for Obi-Wan and she was afraid for him after all. "Atel, reason with him. Make him see that you have only his best interests at heart as do we all. He must let Jinn go. If he does not, it is likely that he will be dismissed from the Jedi Order and prosecuted along with that... that felon. For his own sake and his career as a Jedi, for his life, help him."

The need in the Master's words hurried her reply. "It may not be possible. He might not listen to me."

"Anything is possible. He should be on the Council, not fighting it. Remind him of his duty. To the Order, to the Code, to you. Do whatever is necessary, Padawan. If you want him to remain in the Order, to be the Jedi Knight, the Jedi Master that he is capable of being, you can help him." Tharten jostled her arm once more, fear and anxiety seeming to rise with each breath. "Make him see reason. For his own sake. That criminal had led him astray. And, if he continues to side with Jinn, it will destroy his life. He will go to prison, Atel, prison. Do you want that?"

"No, Master." The very idea horrified Atel. And she swore to herself that it would never come to pass, that she would do anything, anything at all to prevent it.

"Then, Padawan, do what you must. Save him. From himself if necessary. But save him."


	44. Chapter 22: Guardians of peace part 2

**Chapter 22 – Guardians of Peace and Justice**

**Part 2**

"Qui-Gon, look at me."

_Trapped... trapped... flames... skin bubbling... on fire... Force make it stop, make it... trapped... no... fingers melting... get away... have to... fire... searing... flesh bursting... Force, hurts... stop, make it stop... bright... burning... burning... no... no... no..._

"Qui-Gon, it's not real."

_Words, nonsense words... have to... get away, get away... blistering... help me... can't be... hands boiling, bursting... no, no, no, no... sunfire screams... pain... Grey eyes. No, not here. No. Not real... shrieking, searing heat... agony... help me... help me, please..._

"Qui-Gon..."

_Skin scorching, obscene cooked... screaming... fire... trapped... help me... liquefied meat, scalding... breath sucked dry to feed the flames... white agony... shrieking endless pain, endless... Force help me, no..._

"Sorry, Master."

The blow came out of nowhere, a blossom of pain across his cheek, and woke him from that nightmare horror. In one small part of his mind, the sound of skin bruising skin was strange and wrong somehow, and yet it was more right than ever the fiery agony he had writhed in only moments before.

But whatever its strangeness, it had done the job, drawing him out of the twisted trap - the twin swords of madness and terror slicing into his brain - and back into the dim lighting of a small, unadorned cell and the worried face of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Qui-Gon looked up, blinking unsteadily, staring at his old Padawan. He felt odd, dizzy and afraid. And it seemed that he could not, could _not_ get enough air to quell the terror in his mind.

It is said that fear is the path to the dark side, that it can sap your will, eat at your strength and leave you with nothing but endless night. But Qui-Gon Jinn knew that was a lie. It was not endless night but the crimson glow of fire tunneling into your heart that was the horror - burning, burning until he was filled with smoke and blazing heat and beneath it all, the mindless panic that it would _never stop... never stop... _

"Focus on me, Master. Focus." Obi-Wan knelt beside him, holding onto one arm as if he was afraid that Qui-Gon would retreat into the corner and sink back into that hellish nightmare. "You're in cell AA23. Do you remember?"

Qui-Gon nodded slowly. He was drenched in sweat. His skin felt odd, tearing at him, rigid and rough, almost as if scarred from some horrific blast of super-heated steam. As he pulled up his hand to touch his face, he could see that his fingers were shaking. He frowned at the sight.

But then the terror began to eat at him again; the trembling, translucent flesh, the hand-sized outline of bone and stark-white sinew, was such a fragile barrier _to the flames even now trying to burrow into his skin... heat... trapped... no escape, no... _

He shuddered off the panic and stared at Obi-Wan. "How long have I been here?" He grimaced at the sound. Even to his own ears, his voice was raspy and low as if he had been screaming for days.

With one quick shiver, Obi-Wan turned slightly and sat down on the metallic floor, next to Qui-Gon. Pulling up his knees and curling inward, arms wrapped tight around his legs, protective and wary, he murmured, "Not long. An hour or so." He looked thoroughly exhausted and not a little frightened.

Qui-Gon sat up a little straighter, frowning his confusion. Shaking his head as if to clear away the shock, he said, "An... That is not possible. When I was here before, it was never this bad."

The younger man's face hardened into anger for a moment and then he looked away, toward the door and freedom. But it was locked tight and would continue to be so until the Council decided otherwise. "I know. Apparently, they've increased the intensity of the feedback loop. Last time, it took me a couple of hours or more before the fears began to grow. Now I... I can feel it pulling me in and it's only been a little while."

"Obi-Wan, what..." _Rising heat...the crackling whisper of flames just beyond, out of reach... no, no ..._ He murmured half to himself, "It is not real."

But the terror was still lingering just behind Qui-Gon's eyes, ready to rip into his skull at the first sign of weakness. Ignoring the phantom ooze of melting walls and heat-flash hiss echoing in his mind, he steadied his voice, "Obi-Wan, why are you here?"

With that, his Padawan slid his gaze to meet Qui-Gon's own and away again. Obi-Wan's eyes were black with dread. Shivering, he folded himself inward, impossibly tight, and laid his head down onto his knees. His voice was very small. "They wouldn't let me resign from the Order."

"I am sorry. I never wanted you to leave the Jedi." He leaned in, touching his shoulder in apology. "It was always your dream."

Beneath his fingertips, Qui-Gon could feel Obi-Wan's burgeoning fear. "I tried to... defend you. When I threatened to go to the courts, they wouldn't let me go."

But even as the younger man spoke, he was already beginning to tremble, the conflict of muscles battling to remain still as he gulped for air. It would seem that he was trying to calm himself and losing the fight - badly.

Qui-Gon had to do something. He had to find out what was wrong... _smoke curling, red glow... no..._ The flame-hot terror was trying to sink into his skin, to slip past his guard, but he pushed it aside with brutal strength. He could not let his fear rule him, not now. Intent on finding out what was happening and helping his Padawan, he rasped, "Obi-Wan, what is it?"

"I can't breathe. I can't…." The cultured voice, once filled with playfulness and wry humor, was rising in alarm.

He tried to keep his own voice steady, "Padawan, focus. It's not real. It's not…."

But Obi-Wan was not paying attention, trapped instead by fear. "I can't... breathe... Force, help me... buried alive... I'm..." And then his whispers died down into silence and shivering.

"Fight it, you must fight it." But instead of answering, Obi-Wan just huddled there. His whole body seemed to be quaking and Qui-Gon could hear his uneven breathing in the quiet of the cell. This was not good.

Qui-Gon's vision began to waver again... _bands of fire and smoke rising from the floor... stench of seared flesh... no... scalding... not real..._ Ignoring the gut-deep fear, he deliberately anchored himself to the moment by staring at Obi-Wan.

But even through the flames and confusion pressing into his brain, he could see that there was something seriously wrong with his Padawan. Obi-Wan was panicking. It didn't take a Force user to read the signals of fear and he had known him for a very long time.

Sliding closer, he put one arm over Obi-Wan's shoulder, and squeezed, trying to let him know that he was not alone. But there was no response, not even the slightest acknowledgement.

Instead his Padawan seemed to have turned inward, ignoring all but whatever horror was locked in the depths of his own mind. He just sat there, rocking slightly back and forth, panting in frenzied desperation.

"You must fight it, Obi-Wan. It is not real."

Again there was no response. He began to shake him, first gently and then with increasing anxiety. And it was difficult to concentrate on what he was doing with... _the flames spreading onto the walls in sheets of red panic... acrid smoke pouring out... no... not real. Must see to... Obi-Wan. Help Obi-Wan...Not real…._

Somehow, he fought off the terror if only for the moment. There was something more important than his own pain, more important than shreds of cooked meat and his bones turning to ash. He had to save his Padawan.

His throat seemed a scalded ruin; he could barely breathe but he managed to grunt out, "Obi-Wan..."

Still nothing but there had to be a key, some way to reach him without access to the Force. Leaning back, thinking about how Obi-Wan had pushed him out of his own terror, he realized that real pain, not the phantom horror that was locked in the depths of the mind, might be the way. After all, his Padawan had hit him hard enough to awaken him from his nightmare. Could he do the same? Would it work?

_Crackling fire just beyond the door... walls hot to the touch... not real... help him..._ He had to be sure but he needed to work rapidly. Obi-Wan was already drowning in the insanity of his own fears and Qui-Gon was not far behind.

Frowning down at his fists, his body still trembling with forced-back delusion, Qui-Gon deliberately opened up his hands and began to claw at his skin just above the left wrist. The ragged edges of nails pressed in hard, digging in rapidly but painful as it was, it was not enough. He needed something more and fast.

Looking around for something to cut into his skin, something that would cause pain but not incapacitate, he looked down at his boots and the gleaming buckles. Realizing that the softer metal could be worried into sharp points, he began to tear at the fasteners.

But his frenzy was making it difficult to remove them. After all with normal use, it wouldn't do for his boots to come undone. Knowing that he had only moments before the fear would burn its way back into his mind and they would both be lost, he pulled desperately at the frayed nerf-hide strap. Impossibly, thankfully, it came free, the large buckle falling into his hand. _Red flames hissing behind his head, hair beginning to crisp... no... help him..._

With a snarl, he turned back to the gleaming fastener, and began to twist the edges, this way and that, each push a little easier, metal softening fast.

It broke apart in his hand, a wonderfully-sharp edge cutting his fingertips and a shorter pointed piece cradled in his palm, a gleaming spike perfect for jamming into flesh.

Without thought, he plunged the point into the place he had clawed just moments ago, digging it in, pressing past skin into wet muscle and blood. It hurt like hell. But he plunged it in again, jostling the cut. Biting back a grunt, he drew in one ragged breath and then another. As the pain swelled, the panic started to recede and the terror, like fire quenched by cool water, gutted out.

Pain was the answer after all.

He forced himself to look at Obi-Wan. His Padawan had curled so tightly into himself that it seemed there was not a person there but a shivering mound of frayed cloth. Whoever had dumped him in the cell had taken his belt and outer tunic, perhaps to prevent him from harm, perhaps to humiliate, Qui-Gon could not tell, but that left him with undertunic and leggings and boots and nothing else. But it didn't matter. He had to reach him and quickly.

Taking a deep breath, he murmured, "Obi-Wan, I'm sorry" and punched him hard in the side, just above the kidney. There was no response.

Cursing at the Council, the Force and the universe for making him hurt his Padawan, he hit him again, in the same spot and harder. But aside for one stuttered breath, there was nothing. Obi-Wan remained as tightly wrapped as ever.

Centering himself, knowing that he wanted nothing more than to comfort but knowing, too, that he would do what he must, he lifted up the younger man's tunic and plunged the sharpened buckle into Obi-Wan's bare back.

It had the desired result. Even as he was pulling the metal point out again, Obi-Wan turned with a howl of pain, wild eyes and hands up in defensive position.

Qui-Gon scurried back, relieved that his Padawan was no longer a prisoner of his own terror. Gently, he said, "Obi-Wan, forgive me. I could not think of any other way to get through to you."

Blinking rapidly as if to rid himself of the lingering effects of induced madness, Obi-Wan crouched there for a moment. Then realizing where he was at long last, he sat down with a thump and began rubbing at his face with the palm of one hand. He said nothing for a moment, just tried to control his breathing and fear still lingering there.

Then moving carefully as if trying not to jostle his wound, he gazed up at the Bendu, and much to Qui-Gon's relief, sent him a brief, tentative smile. "There is nothing to forgive." There was only acceptance in Obi-Wan's grey eyes. "I would rather have the pain than feel like I'm being buried al... alive."

Qui-Gon had to know. "How long will the pain will keep it at bay?"

His Padawan closed his eyes for a moment. He must have been thinking of other times when he had been alone and terrified in this very place. "Not long." But he deliberately looked up and gave Qui-Gon a half-grin. "Then you have to find a new spot and dig in."

When Qui-Gon glared at him, sending him the well-known and remembered-with-fondness Masterly look, Obi-Wan just sent back the guileless gaze of a rascally young Padawan. But it only lasted a moment before the boyish face vanished into the weary frown of a Jedi Knight. "Where did you get the blade?"

"My boot buckle." Qui-Gon leaned back, staring at the remains of the still-welling cut on his skin. "It's small but effective." He pushed against the wound, grunting a bit in pain but not stopping. Reality, even painful reality, was preferable to the mind-terrified delusion of being burned alive.

Obi-Wan leaned against the wall and deliberately pressed against his own injury. Stretching out his legs, he snickered, "Qui-Gon, only you would use a buckle." Then he lay his head back onto the metallic wall and closed his eyes. He looked very tired but he kept on talking. "Normally, I have a knife hidden in my boot for this purpose. I learned the first time I was in here that pain could keep me from drifting into insanity and I've used it ever since. But they have gotten more effective at searching and found it." He shrugged away his annoyance. "I suppose that, next time, I'll have to hide it better."

Qui-Gon turned to him, his face set firm and resolute, his voice flat with disgust. "There will not be a next time." But when Obi-Wan didn't argue with him but instead shrugged away his declaration, he continued, "How long did the Council say you would be here?"

"Until I... until I cooperate." He pushed up against the wall, digging into his wound and frowning with pain.

"Can you get out now if you do?" Qui-Gon pressed for an answer. Perhaps, if he could persuade Obi-Wan to renounce him, he would be freed from this abomination.

The obstinate man swung his head from side to side, and with a lift of his shoulders, he replied, "Who said that I would cooperate?" But when Qui-Gon shot him another Masterly look, he gave in, "No, not until morning. Usually they like to have their prisoners _think_ about what they have done first."

"I am sorry, Obi-Wan." He sat back, pushing into his wounded arm but it was already beginning to knit. The pain was lessening quickly.

Obi-Wan just looked at him, dignified and every inch a Jedi Knight. "I made my own choices and now I have to live with them. I chose to defend you, even against your own wishes. Even knowing that this might be the penalty." Flinching slightly, he waved one arm to encompass the dim surroundings. "I admit that I would prefer some better accommodations, though. A window or two, perhaps a nice comfy bed, a private refresher at the very least."

"I see you haven't..." _Smoldering flame... snap-pop sound of melting thermoplast... rising..._ Qui-Gon closed his eyes, trying to hold back on the terrors that were beginning to surface again. Taking one deep breath, he fumbled out, "Lost your sense of humor."

Qui-Gon was already starting to sweat again and his hand shook. But Obi-Wan said, "Wait as long as you can, Master. Less healing to go through when it is finally over."

Qui-Gon wasn't the only one who was starting to tremble but it was clear that Obi-Wan was attempting to keep things light when he pointed out, "And they do shut off the feedback loop whenever they bring the food. Wouldn't want the prisoners to starve to death now. Looks bad for the Order. So uncivilized."

"What will you do when they do release you?" Qui-Gon forced out the question but his mind was hovering closer to the old terror. _Stench of cooking meat... fire crawling closer... hold on, hold on..._ He began to fumble for the metal spike, readying it, gripping it tightly in his hand. It would have to be soon, very soon.

"Resign. Go to the courts. Get this reversed, somehow." Obi-Wan's voice lowered as he started to shiver but he ground out his reply.

"Padawan, let it go." And with the last word, he plunged the sharp point back into his forearm. Pain, real pain flooded back into his mind, sweeping away the fire demons, cleansing his thoughts. But it hurt, it hurt.

Obi-Wan was shaking again, starting to curl up, his eyes darting towards the walls as if he could see them moving closer but he was still stubborn and still a Knight. With a distinct effort, he said, "Master, with all due respect, this has gone beyond your control. The Council has violated the Jedi Code and Republic law. They have imprisoned a non-Jedi in this cell. They have ignored evidence and tried to sentence you without trial. I cannot let it go. Even for you."

Qui-Gon breathed in his affection for this courageous young man. "Obi-Wan, I have missed you and your wisdom very much." Placing his uninjured arm about the shoulders of his old Padawan, he tried to smile. "When you are free of the Jedi, go back to the Bendu. They would be honored to have you there. As would I."

"I will consider it." Then reaching out with one shaky hand, he whispered, rough-edged and weak, "Now, Qui-Gon, much as I dislike this, I would like to borrow your blade. I have some digging to do."


	45. Chapter 23: Dried blood part 1

**Chapter 23 - Dried blood and revenge**

**Part 1**

It is said that the Coruscanti night is never truly dark. The laser-sharp lines of brilliantly-lit vehicles moving through the atmosphere, the jewel glow of apartment complexes, nightclubs with their raucous eye-popping beacons, and the far-off industrial centers pulsing in the fiery furnace of commerce add to the luminous scatter of energy that permeates all but the darkest of corners. Even in the lower levels, the light-molten movement of beings rushing about their petty concerns beats with color and illumination and life.

But there was one who despised the light, who grew strong in the darkest of shadows, who delighted in decay and deception and death - the Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Sidious.

As he stood before the huge window in the Supreme Chancellor's office, Sidious ignored the bright, ever-changing abyss that lay before him. He did not see the glory of the Coruscant night; he did not think of the sentients who inhabited this planet and filled the night with light or of all the myriad worlds beyond. Beauty was irrelevant and the living beings insignificant insects, pawns in an endless hunt for power and more power. Theirs were unimportant lives and foolish dreams. He could crush them with a wave of his hand and often did, to his great satisfaction.

He ignored all that radiant splendor and turned inward, gazing instead at his reflection in the glass. His politician's face smiled back at him. It was a lie, of course, a grandfatherly configuration of mouth and eyes, of kindness and concern - a mask that hid the truth behind a gentle facade.

He chuckled softly at the irony. No one who knew the Supreme Chancellor would dare imagine that he could be a Sith Lord, not the kind man, not the soft-spoken reasonable one that was trying to keep the Republic from flying apart with his bare hands. No, the masses would always be fooled. Their complete inability to comprehend that they could be duped by a smile and a nod was so immensely satisfying.

He turned his gaze out beyond the smoky reflection and towards the brightly-glowing Jedi Temple. There, too, was the culmination of deception: the gradual squeezing of the Jedi until they were on the verge of collapse, the way they squirmed and wiggled as they lay dying on the hook of Senate funding. It was all too delicious. It would be but a small matter to finish them off but not yet - not until he was sure that everything would be destroyed in the coming fire.

Of course, there was one minor problem in all this. The Bendu stood in the way.

That do-gooder band of worrt-slime had managed to pull themselves out of the swamp and was threatening to upset his plans. That would never do. He would not allow it.

He blamed that discarded Jedi trash, Jinn, for the Bendu coalition. He had met the man a few times while still Naboo's Senator and knew he was trouble. Rogue and used to going his own way, Jinn had been disgustingly difficult to control. So it had been easy enough to arrange for the misfit to be discharged from the Jedi in the first of many dismissal sweeps. Light side filth. That Jinn had not gone into oblivion like a good little Jedi rankled and to have organized the Bendu - well, it was not to be tolerated.

Now he had that dung-mucked renegade in his grasp. He had but to close his hand and the fool would be dead. That it would be the Jedi to execute Jinn was not lost to him. The irony was glorious.

But he was growing impatient. His troublesome fool of a Jedi agent knew that he had wanted Jinn dead when he was brought back to Coruscant but there had been no word. Jinn had arrived hours ago and that simpleton could not even do something so simple as kill him. Did that Jedi peasant think that he would overlook this?

He needed Jinn dead - well and truly dead.

Unfortunately, Jinn had a nasty habit of evading death, too many times to leave it to chance or time. While the Bendu coward lived, it was always possible that something could go wrong. And surely his associates were planning a rescue, trying to free their leader before his execution.

Sidious frowned at the thought. He would not be foiled again. Jinn must die. Tomorrow would not be soon enough.

Before he could contemplate this further, from beside him the soft chime of a hologram feed echoed into the office. On the secondary projector plate, he saw the small shimmering form of his apprentice kneeling before him, waiting patiently.

Of course, he knew that Lord Maul had succeeded again. It went without saying that he did not fail; it was not an option. It was satisfying to know that he could rely on his apprentice to carry out his orders - as long as those orders were explicit.

Maul was capable enough, a true killing machine, but skill in diplomatic treachery was not one of his strengths. There would come a time when he would be forced to kill the Zabrak, when he found another more capable of carrying on the Sith dynasty. But that time was not now, not while Maul was still useful.

With a simple wave of his hand, Sidious motioned for his assistant to rise. "Lord Maul, how fares your hunt?"

Hi apprentice looked well satisfied. "The list of former Jedi shortens with time but the scum are growing more inventive, my Master. The last pathetic fool took longer to kill than I had anticipated and he had enlisted several bounty hunters as... diversions."

"I assume you handled it with your usual style." Sidious could almost envy him. The taste of blood, the agonized cries as they were torn apart was a distinct pleasure but one he had not indulged in for many months.

"Yes, Master." With an amused sneer, the Zabrak held up one shredded tentacle before tossing it aside. "Broiled Jedi makes a fine dish and I forced his friends to eat their fill before I destroyed them."

Sidious chuckled at that, nodding his approval. "Most inventive. Perhaps when you return, we can discuss seasonings..."

Maul inclined his head in acknowledgement and then shifted abruptly in the transmission light. Apparently, there was much to relate. "The Bendu have become troublesome. Their influence in the Outer Rim is spreading."

"I am aware of it." The older man merely nodded. It was old news.

Stubbornly, Maul growled, "They are also sheltering the Jedi trash on Naboo. Their numbers grow daily."

"So my agent on the Council informs me. It is of little consequence. Their weak-minded fool of a leader will be dead in the next day or so. The Bendu will be in disarray when they learn of it and vulnerable for a time."

That should have been the end of it but when Maul sunk his teeth into a topic, he was as tenacious as a boar-wolf. "Master, it is rumored that Windu has already taken over. He could be a threat to us."

Sidious shrugged off his concern. "He is a wily opponent and strong in the Force but he has a fatal weakness. He is contaminated with compassion. It will be his undoing and theirs." Looking out toward the Temple for a moment, he huffed in contempt. "The Bendu flounder around, helping the poor and defenseless even while they are being hunted. Fools. When they could have such power. They deserve their fate."

"Master, we have an opportunity. I will be on Naboo in a few days to kill Jinn's harlot and that whelp of his. Do you wish me to... chastise Windu? I would enjoy showing him the true meaning of the Force." Black and red tattoos tightened in anticipation. Maul seemed almost too eager to begin the hunt.

Sidious frowned at his apprentice. Perhaps there was the reason for his persistence. The young fool had never really learned subtlety or true patience. He knew that Maul wanted to kill Windu. The Jedi Master had been one of the finest swordsmen of the Order and it would be a mark of skill to defeat the dark-skinned one in battle.

However, his underling needed to learn that there was a time and place for everything. "No, leave him for the moment. I am not ready for that ragtag band of ruffians to be exterminated as yet. Soon enough."

Unbelievably, Maul did not drop the subject. "Master, gutting the woman and pup will offer some sport but I hunger to kill more than just a few pathetic Force-blinds..."

Ice-shards of contempt sliced the air. "Are you challenging my orders, Maul?" Sidious watched as his pathetic lifeform of an apprentice realized his mistake.

The Zabrak tried to backpedal furiously, unwilling to anger him. "No, my Lord."

"Good. That would be most unwise. Do not go beyond the bounds of your assignment." Sidious stared at him for a few heartbeats more. He wanted to make sure there would be no misunderstandings. He could not afford for his long-term plans to be disrupted by simple blood-lust.

Maul sent him a look of veiled hatred but he nodded acceptance, nonetheless.

However, the Sith Master could not leave it like that. Much as his apprentice was capable of killing indiscriminately, he was also more efficient when plans were laid out before him. The reality was that it was all growing so tiresome with Maul. A true Lord of the Sith would be more subtle but he would play along for a while longer, but not too long. Perhaps the time for a new apprentice was growing near after all.

Nodding graciously, Sidious sat down in his chair, and steepling his fingers together in a fine show of deep thought, he said, "Slaughtering large numbers at a single location would only stir them up into a frenzy and alert them to your presence on Naboo. One or two deaths may make them wary but they will scurry around like milte-fleas and do nothing. Weak-minded fools."

Maul did not blink, just stared at his Master's face with rapt attention. When there was no interruption, the Master of the Dark continued, "A Sith would seek vengeance. That is our strength, using the anger and the power of the dark side to destroy our enemies. But instead, the Bendu will be crippled by their fear and their pathetic attachments and try to shield their families first. You will be able to slip through their defenses with little problem."

"It will be the perfect time to do more damage," Maul pointed out. But when Sidious glared at him, he bowed his head, saying, "Apologies, Master, but it would seem the correct action to take. They are vulnerable and would be easily overcome at that moment."

"For that moment, you are right. But that is a short term goal and the Sith deal in deception that may last a lifetime or beyond. The Jedi dismissals are a perfect example. They are being destroyed without any knowledge of it. They can't even fight back. But the beginnings of our subterfuge run back a hundred years or more. Patience is key."

"I still have much to learn from you, my Master."

Maul appeared almost humble but even Sidious knew it was a lie. His apprentice was probably plotting something of his own. He would need to find out what it was before it came to fruition but it would not be prudent to allow Maul to know that he was aware of it. Deception within deception was the way of the Sith and Sidious had learned it well.

He tucked away the idea and turned back to the lesson. "Think, Lord Maul, of how the Bendu will react. They will find nothing and eventually they will go back to their own affairs. But the fear will remain." He chuckled softly, "And when the fury has died down, you will return to Naboo to destroy more of their most cherished ones - the children and those without Force powers."

"Children..." The contempt in Maul's voice was clear.

"Children are the most vulnerable and the ones that they would shield most strongly." He spread his hands wide and leaned back in his chair, a smile of contemplation on his grandfatherly face, but that smile grew hard and hungry as he thought of the final destruction of the Bendu. "Their fear will grow as we slowly pick off their families. They will have to stop their pitiful attempts at helping others and concentrate on defending their own kind. After that, it will be a simple thing to turn those relying on the Bendu for assistance to hatred. Then will be the time to strike - when they no longer have allies and nowhere to go."

"Their demise is guaranteed, no matter what they do." The apprentice nodded his eager approval.

"Just so." He sat up straighter, staring stern and certain at his fool of a servant. "So you see, Lord Maul, yours is an important mission after all."

"I see that now, my Lord. I will not fail you."

With that, Sidious appeared to relent, his face morphing once more back into a softer, more genial facade. But his words still had the sting of a hill-adder's bite. "I know you will not. But my apprentice, use this opportunity to play a bit. Be inventive. I wouldn't want their deaths to be swift. Or painless."

The red and black demon's mask snarled into pleasure. "You will not be disappointed, my Master."

"I depart for Geonosis tomorrow to meet with Count Dooku. Apparently he did not take your suggestions to heart and continues to circumvent my orders." A flash of angry yellow in those blue eyes as Sidious nodded toward the cityscape beyond. "When I have finished with that simpering buffoon, we shall see how the Bendu are faring and what else needs to be done."

"Yes, Master." But the meekness of Maul's reply sent alarm bells ringing in his head.

It was becoming obvious that it was time to watch his foolish apprentice more carefully. Surely the gundark wasn't going to try and kill him. He would lose and badly. "A new day is dawning, Lord Maul. Soon we will rule the Galaxy and the Jedi will be no more."

"I await that day, my Master."

The Zabrak spoke with humility, in layers of subservience. But beneath those layers bubbled a lust for ultimate power. That and treachery were the ways of the Sith, for both the Master and the apprentice - a balance of death and life that could change at any moment. Sidious would make sure that he would not be the one to die.

"As do I, my young apprentice, as do I."


	46. Chapter 23: Dried blood part 2

**Chapter 23 - Dried blood and revenge**

**Part 2**

Apparently today he was surrounded by fools, first Maul and now this smirking worrt-slime. Darth Sidious was not pleased but he hid his distaste in false smiles and flattery. "Ah, my friend, it is always good to hear your voice. I take it all went well today in Council."

The cloaked figure's hologram flickered, blue haze in the half-light of a Coruscanti night. His Jedi puppet was preening in triumph. "Yes, my Lord, very well. Kenobi brought Jinn to us in chains, just as you predicted."

Of course, Kenobi would do his duty to the Jedi Order. The Jedi lout was nothing if not predictable, contemptibly so. It also made him very easy to manipulate. But Sidious did not say that. Instead, he nodded genially toward his fool of a pawn. "That must have been an auspicious time for you, my friend. I know that you have long sought revenge on Jinn and now to finally achieve it. The taste of victory is always sweet."

The low voice of the Jedi Councilor was drenched with satisfaction. "Sweeter than the finest wine, my Lord. He is now enjoying our best accommodations - the punishment cell in the belly of the Temple. Sentencing will take place tomorrow."

Sidious nodded at the news. To put Jinn in that cursed cell was just too entertaining. He had long been a troublesome insect and the thought of him suffering the mental torment of the damned was almost an erotic experience. "Good, good. From what you have told me, the evidence for the death penalty was quite clear. After all, the deliberate murder of those poor mine owners must demand the ultimate price. Don't you agree?"

By the hesitation in the reply, it was clear that the news was not good. "Yes, my Lord. Unfortunately, the evidence may not hold up to scrutiny."

"You assured me that all was arranged." It was mildly said but an undertone of brutality slithered through the ether.

It was not wise to fail when a Sith Master demanded results and this muck-slimed little reptile knew it. The blue figure stuttered in burgeoning fear. "I... I... my Lord, apparently Kenobi's young pup was quite clever and found the slice. They are working on the data crystals now to determine if the evidence for murder is sufficient or if those charges will have to be dismissed."

"That was rather sloppy of you." Sidious looked almost lazily at the shimmering form.

Shivering for a moment, the Jedi began to make excuses, the words spilling out, rushing past each other as if to stave off any thought of torment for a job not done. "The foolish child was lucky, nothing more. However, we have ample proof of the other charges, carrying a lightsaber, harboring runaway slaves, starting a renegade Temple. He will go to prison for a long, long time. And who knows what will happen to him there."

The Dark Lord of the Sith looked straight into his puppet's dark eyes, sending hellfire warnings with a single glare. He would not tolerate failure again. There were a thousand painful ways to destroy a living being. He would enjoy cutting this rsshak apart, slowly and with the savage skill of experience.

"Yes, who knows… and who knows what will happen to you if he doesn't die. Tomorrow."

The fool did not realize the danger and continued to argue. "My Lord... so soon? It is not possible without evidence and I cannot condemn him without the approval of the Council. Even if everything went well and he was sentenced, it would take weeks to arrange the execution."

His voice ice-cold, the promise of obscene torment increasing with each word, Sidious spat out his displeasure. "I told you when we started this that I wanted him dead when he reached Coruscant. He has long been a thorn in my side. I tire of it."

"But my Lord…." His informant's wavering bravado was beginning to collapse into panic.

"I have given you power and slaves and wealth. All I ask in return is Jinn's death."

"Please, my Lord..." The panic was full-blown now. The Jedi had experience with Sidious's unshakable thirst for perfection and did not wish to repeat it.

"Little trifle, do you think you are dealing with your simpleminded Jedi Council? I want results, not excuses."

The worthless slug was practically stuttering in terror. "My Lord, how... I would be discovered. He's in that cell with Kenobi and they are constantly being watched by holoscans. There is even a Bendu spy here among the Jedi. I can't get to him. It's impossible."

That caught his attention. He knew that it was merely a useless diversion from the pressure that he was putting on the Jedi traitor but it could upset his plans if the Bendu discovered his existence. "A spy? Where did you learn of this?"

The relief in the Councilor's face was palpable. "That little idiot of a Padawan overheard Jinn talking to Kenobi about it. She reported it today in session."

He pretended a mild disinterest but he needed to know who to kill. This could become a large problem if it got out of hand. "The name of this spy?"

"She did not know. Apparently, even Jinn doesn't know who it is, just that they are sending confidential information to the Bendu. Lists of the dismissed ones and where they could be found."

The dung-mucked Jedi seemed almost as upset about this turn of events as Sidious himself. That would be all to the good - there was nothing like the incentive of harsh discovery to move things along.

"That would explain the growth of the Bendu recently."

The fool was still babbling. "Yes, my Lord. You see why I can't kill Jinn while he's in the Temple. Once he's condemned to prison, it should be easy to arrange. And I don't understand why you are insisting that he die so quickly. Surely, it would be better if it was quietly done and away from the Temple."

How dare this minion, this slave dictate his actions. It took all the power of the dark to keep Sidious from tearing through the transmission and shredding the filthy fool into steaming meat and blood. "You assume too much. It is very simple, my Jedi friend. I need him dead and I need him dead before noon tomorrow. Or I will kill you. And I don't recommend dying at my hand. It can be messy and very painful. Do I make myself clear?"

It was with grim satisfaction that Sidious watched the traitorous slug shivering with dread as the fool realized that the Dark Lord of the Sith never made idle threats, that it was kill Jinn or be killed, that there was no place in this universe far enough to hide if he was not obeyed.

There was only one response that was acceptable. "Y... yes, my Lord. Very clear. Jinn will die tomorrow. As you have instructed."

With that, the Sith Master was all false smiles and satisfaction. "Good. When you have completed that task, contact me. Together, we will celebrate the death of an enemy and the beginning of a new day for the Jedi."


	47. Chapter 23: Dried blood part 3

**Chapter 23 - Dried blood and revenge**

**Part 3**

Once long ago, within the vast commons of the Jedi Temple, there had been places of tranquil contemplation, of joyous gardens and aching beauty, of serenity and silence. But they were gone now. The gardens had turned into commerce factories and the serenity into despair. Dust and decay and the spider-shrouds of long disuse gathered into the hallways and discarded rooms. The corners were choked with debris and everywhere was the cloying taste of oppression.

But beneath the dirt, hidden in the dusky corners, all was not as it seemed.

From deep within the Jedi complex, the electronic whisper of automated recording equipment finally clicked off. The secret transmissions of blue-lit energies had been captured once more on holograms and stored for future need. But now the future was fast approaching and two who knew and hoped and planned for the coming storm had heard it all.

They had been friends for most of their lives and more than friends in recent years, co-conspirators in a war of words and money and terminations, fighting in clandestine ways to try and stave off the utter collapse of the Jedi Order. In the early days, after the first wave of dismissals, they had been both numb and astonished at the swiftness with which the Order had been changed. But it soon became apparent that it was not just the Senate's monetary manipulations that caused the reversal. The very Order itself was under siege.

That had not changed over the years but as they tried and failed and tried again to stem the tide, they learned to be devious, concealing their motives, manipulating those around them so that they could keep the Jedi as pure and true and unsullied as possible in these troubled times. More often than not, they lost but they kept trying, even when their methods were less than clean.

But now the endgame had begun; the latest news was disturbing but not unexpected.

Tall and strong, and for the moment completely incensed, the younger of the two paced back and forth, furious energy in the walk, anger blistering the air. The Zabrak were known for their fierce temper and Zak Xacor, Councilor and head of the Jedi Order's Hunter Group, was no exception. "They are going to kill Jinn in the next few hours. We cannot let this happen. It is completely..."

The brown robes of the elder were almost black in the half-light and, hunched down as he was next to the recording terminal, little of the body could be seen. The steady voice of reason seemed to echo in the room. "You are too impatient, my friend. How else can we get our enemies to come out into the open unless we allow them access to Jinn?"

Dark eyes challenged that statement and there was an appalled tremble in Xacor's raspy voice. "Access? Are you willing to sacrifice him for this? Trest, you know he is innocent of the murders. And probably the other charges as well."

In the intervening years when selfless service and the joy of helping others should have been foremost in every Jedi's heart, instead there had been only a scramble to remain a part of the Order, no matter the cost. The scars of that ran deep. But, at least, the older Jedi was still compassionate enough to sound ashamed. "I know that, Zak. But we will not be able to do anything until we have proof positive that these reske'ta slime are indeed traitors to the Jedi."

In the shadows of the crowded room, frustration bubbled out. Stressed almost to the breaking point, Xacor slapped one large hand against the grubby wall in anger; the sharp sound echoed like blaster fire. "But we know who they are."

From beneath the huddled robes, the voice only carried murky sorrow and red-tinged regret. "Yet without clear-cut proof, it is merely our word against theirs. We have to make this legal if we are to succeed."

Xacor sent his friend a saber-sharp glare and then turning away for a moment, lifted his shoulders in defeat. "I know that you are right but it has been too long. It is time to end this."

One white paw pulled back the dark cloak and the liquid eyes of Jedi Councilor Trest Sle'fey stared after his fellow conspirator. There had been many such discussions over the years and it was only now, as the end neared, that Trest seemed willing to admit, "I, too, grow tired of the charade."

There was utter weariness in Xacor's voice and not a small amount of despair when he said, "We should have taken back the Jedi years ago. Told the Senate to go to hell and found our own path, instead. Now we are almost powerless to prevent the collapse of the Order. I'm not sure that we can succeed even with proof."

Trest Sle'fey reached out and gripped Zak's arm for a moment in sympathy. It was wise to remember that they had a mission, one that could not depend on anger but on serenity. The darker emotions needed to be released into the Force so that they could think more clearly. It would not be wise to slip when they were so close to the end.

Sle'fey said, "My friend, the darkness has been gathering for decades. You know this. We have all felt it. But I promise you, by this time tomorrow, it will be over. We will have taken back what is ours and begin to restore the Order to its roots. I have seen it."

Xacor just sighed and sat down next to now-silent equipment and swiped at his face. It had been a long night and tomorrow would be demanding. "The future is always in motion, Trest." Then he shrugged and turning away, began to play with the datacrystals that Kenobi had given them. "But you were always much better at the Unifying Force than I. I only hope you are correct." The clear stones clacked loudly as he rolled them restlessly in his hands. "You know who else we will have to move against."

He nodded, his fur flat with distaste. "Yes, the list is long. But I believe that if we cut off the head of the nexu, the entire group will collapse."

"Or we will." Xacor sent a challenging look toward his co-conspirator, daring him to disagree.

But Trest did not. They were poised on the edge of the abyss; one false move and it could be disastrous for them and for the Order. "Yes. I feel that, too. A great deal is riding on the next few hours."

"I will just be glad when it is over." The clattering stones grew quiet under Xacor's fingertips. Looking down at the datacrystals for a moment, he shook his head. Sounding thoroughly disgusted, he said, "That session in the Council chamber left me nauseated and unclean."

Plucking the crystals from his friend's hand and laying them aside for safe-keeping, Sle'fey looked no happier about it. "I did not want to hurt Obi-Wan any more than you did. But it was necessary to lull our enemies into a false sense of victory."

"He may not be aware of it but I consider Obi-Wan a friend. He is certainly a finer man that I could ever be. And..." Zak closed his eyes as if to shield himself from the reality of what they had done. "To treat him that way, to treat both of them that way. You may still hate Jinn..."

Sle'fey just shook his head. "I forgave him a long time ago. But I've had to keep up the facade. So did you. If we are ever to see our way clear of this mess."

Zak glanced away into one of the murky corners and far from the sympathetic gaze of his friend. It was clear to them both that he did not want kindness, not now, not when others were being punished for doing the honorable thing. "But to allow both of them to be put in that perverted cell even for a single hour. It is not right."

"Obi-Wan will understand."

The look he shot Trest was pure disbelief. "I'm not so sure he will. We've been using him as bait now for years, trying to draw out the traitorous scum. And he's been accepting it - all the punishments, all the pain that we have allowed to be inflicted on him. When I think of it…." Xacor began to pace again, his face a mask of scowling energy and shame.

But as he passed his old friend, with one paw, Trest caught at Zak's sleeve, holding him still. They both knew that there had been no other choice. There had been no choice when they realized just where the Jedi Order was going, no choice except to fight it with whatever means they had.

"We have been following the will of the Force just as he has. What else was there to do? With that filthy lying fraud focused on Obi-Wan, we could hide what we were doing more easily."

They both knew this but it didn't make it any easier. Zak said, "I know. But we can't... the Order can't afford to lose him. But I'm not sure we won't when this is all said and done. He may never forgive us."

Letting go of his friend's tunic, Trest looked away, clearly ashamed. "You may be right. But Obi-Wan will do his duty. He is Jedi, no matter how much he denies it."

"Let's just hope that he remains so or all may be lost. Tomorrow, then..."

Zak began to shut down the room's sophisticated electronic systems. There was no time left and still much work left to be done before the momentous day began. All must be made ready.

But for just a moment, as he gathering up the datacrystals, he paused to look into their pure depths. The knowledge held within those faceted stones could save them all. But it would never erase the disgust that he felt, knowing that he had allowed two innocent men to be tortured to save the Jedi Order.

He only hoped that when all was said and done, it would have been worth it. But now was not the time. Looking at his ever-steadfast friend, Master Zak Zacor could only shrug wearily and sigh, "Tomorrow."


	48. Chapter 24: Freefall part 1

**Chapter 24 - Freefall**

**Part 1**

Obi-Wan felt terrible.

Early morning light was streaming into the Jedi Council chamber, low rays of brilliance that skidded across the broken tiles and sprayed straight into his eyes. But he ignored it, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. Sunlight was the least of his problems.

Even the phantom pain of previous hours had dulled although the remembrance of it still skittered across his skin like droid septspiders. Looking down, he could see remnants of the self-inflicted injuries spotting his undertunic with encrusted sprays of dried blood. One wound still oozed slowly, red-brown liquid following the pale line of bone and skin until the droplets slipped free onto the once-beautiful floor - a slow tap...tap... tap. It was almost soothing to listen to his lifeblood leaching out his future.

Standing there, swaying slightly, exhaustion seemed to seep into his very bones, sapping his strength. He tried to gather in the Force and gain back some small portion of that energy; he would need it in full measure before long. But the residual effects of the Force-suppression were still clinging to him. It would take some minutes more before he would be able to feel its Light again.

Yet the torment of blinding sunlight and exhaustion and blood trickling off his fingertips was nothing to the misery of knowing that his Master was still trapped below. He could see him there in his mind's eye, the imagined fire-demons picking at Qui-Gon's mind as he tried to fight off the terror that choked the rank air in that hellhole. With every fiber of his being, Obi-Wan wanted to turn around and rescue him.

There was nothing he could do. He was imprisoned here just as much as Qui-Gon was trapped in that damnable cell at the base of the Temple - helpless.

It was almost as if the Councilors were playing with them, like felinoids with prey. When the guards arrived early in the morning to take him, they had shut down the feedback mechanism for a brief time. He had hoped that the Council had come to their senses and seen reason. But when the two guards dragged him out of the prison and reengaged the cell's torture device, he had struggled with everything that he had in him to stop it.

It was not enough, never enough.

Now he was here, standing in the very heart of the Jedi Temple, being judged by those that looked at him as if he were some kind of gorach-slime, waiting with him to make another mistake.

Obi-Wan glanced around the room, trying to gauge whether there was any pity among the Councilors, knowing there was likely none here. Almost all the Masters were present, scattered about in little knots of conversation. Masters Sle'fey and Zacor were off in one corner with heads together, staring at him for a moment and then studiously looking away. The others were also avoiding his gaze. At least, Master Tharten and that blustering bureaucrat, Zaros, were not in attendance. He wasn't sure that he would be able to keep his temper in check if Tharten started in on Qui-Gon's activities again.

Finally, Master Sle'fey gestured for the others to take their seats and Obi-Wan pulled himself upright, gathering himself in for the onslaught. He would face whatever they would throw at him with dignity as befitting a former Jedi Knight. If only he could get them to release Qui-Gon, he would accept punishment. If only...

But Master Xacor was frowning at him, a thunderous stormcloud of anger painting his face in reds and shadow. Obi-Wan thought it likely that the Zabrak Master was angry about his defiance yesterday and would start again to ask him about Qui-Gon and his dealings. Instead, with hoarse distaste, the Councilor's voice rang out, "Kenobi, are you bleeding? Knight Rostak, what is the meaning of this?"

From behind Obi-Wan, one of the guards stepped forward and bowed. "Master, it was not our doing. Knight Kenobi must have been in a fight with Jinn sometime during the night and this is the result. They were both bloodied from it when we arrived. But I assure you that Kenobi wasn't bleeding when we took him out of the cell."

"Qui-Gon didn't do this. I did." But Obi-Wan's protest went unheard.

The guard opened his hand and showed Qui-Gon's sharpened boot buckle to the Council. "We found this small weapon in Jinn's possession. It must have been used during their scuffle last night. Of course, we impounded it but it was not easy. Jinn was quite persistent about keeping it."

Obi-Wan sent Rostak a scathing glare. "Qui-Gon and I did _not_ scuffle. The buckle was used to fight off the mental torture of that blasted cell. He needed it; he still needs it. He should not be down there. This is not justice."

It must have been a trick of the early morning light but Xacor looked almost ashamed and Sle'fey's fur was flattened in some dark emotion even as his blue eyes met those of the Zabrak Councilor.

However, when the Masters realized that Obi-Wan was watched them both, Sle'fey's gaze slid away, giving a little shake of his muzzle, and Xacor scowled before looking down at his clenched hands.

Furious with the situation and the fact that Qui-Gon was still down there, still being tormented by that place, Obi-Wan stared at the Councilors. His temper was beginning to fray into anxiety as they turned away. They were hiding something and it wasn't good.

Before he could probe further, Master Veendo, his green snout glistening with wet eagerness, snorted and snapped back, "Justice is served when Jinn confesses, nothing less."

Glaring at the Rodian for a moment, Master Xacor ignored the cutting remark and asked the guard, "Knight Rostak, can you explain then why Knight Kenobi is standing here bleeding on the floor?"

"He tried to escape this morning. He could have reopened his wound then."

"I did not." Obi-Wan tried to rein in his thinning control. He was growing uneasy even as his Force signature was beginning to return. Something was seriously wrong. He could feel it. "You turned that torture machine back on. I…."

Rostak interrupted Obi-Wan, sending an annoyed scowl his way. "Knight Kenobi seemed quite upset when we reengaged the feedback device and he struggled enough to injure one of my guards. I was more concerned about how my man was doing."

Glaring at the guard, Xacor huffed in annoyance. "Well, take care of it. Can't you see that Knight Kenobi is in need of medical attention? We aren't barbarians here."

Acknowledging the rebuke with a sharp nod, Rostak grabbed at the bandages that another of his cadre had thrust into his hand, and catching hold of Obi-Wan's arm, followed the trail of blood back to its source. It took but a few seconds for him to press in the medicinal patch.

The man was gentle enough but Obi-Wan was not paying attention. Instead, unable to hold in his bitterness, he spat out, "Aren't you? That so-called feedback device you used on us was set much higher than I'd ever experienced before. The Jedi's torture chamber... that thing is an abomination to the Force."

Sle'fey turned his dark eyes toward Obi-Wan, concern and just the barest hint of shame in his voice, "Higher? Are you sure?"

"Ask your security guards. I certainly didn't change it." His sarcastic tone was unmistakable.

As Rostak finished up with the bandages and stepped back, he nodded. "Master Sle'fey, Knight Kenobi is correct. When we arrived this morning to bring him up to the Council chamber, the feedback device was set on maximum. We changed it back to the original setting before it was turned on again. I cannot explain what happened. My men did not take either prisoner to the cells yesterday. I believe that Master Tharten hand-picked them for that task."

There was a scatter of quiet protest about the room. Apparently not everyone on the Council was happy about how cell AA23 was utilized even if Master Tharten, head of that august body, championed its use. But they had allowed it to happen; nothing could change that fact.

As the murmurs died down, Master Xacor sent a look of utter thunderous disapproval towards Sle'fey and then turning to the guard, growled out, "I'm sure she did. Thank you, Knight Rostak. That will be all." With that, the guard stepped back and joined his companions by the door.

Obi-Wan took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Much as he would have liked to rebuke the Councilors for their villainous handling of this whole appalling debacle, he knew it would do little good. Scathing retorts would not get Qui-Gon released and that must remain his first priority. "Masters, I..."

However, instead of listening to him, the Zabrak Master twisted towards Sle'fey, gesturing toward a small datapad in his hand, interrupting Obi-Wan's remark with a soft whisper, "Trest, she's in the turbolift heading toward the cell block."

A snarling curl to his muzzle, Sle'fey had seemed to be preoccupied almost as if he were looking about the room, counting heads and unhappy with the result. But when he heard Xacor's statement, he nodded imperceptibly. Drawing in a deep breath, he turned back to face Obi-Wan. "Knight Kenobi, you have indicated that you no longer wish to be a Jedi Knight. But as we said yesterday, we refuse to accept your resignation at this time. You are needed here."

Obi-Wan stood there, arms folded about his chest, holding in the bone-chilling dismay. Deep down, he knew that they would not let him go but he had hoped that they would see reason for once. And yet, and yet, that thought did not explain the phantom slither of shadows even now creeping up his spine. He gave a slight shudder. Something wasn't right and it was getting worse by the moment.

"Keeping beings against their will is not going to aid the Order. I will not cooperate in this."

From behind him, the doors of the Council Chamber groaned open and any further conversation came to an abrupt halt as the garishly-dressed bureaucrat stomped into the room. Kenth Zaros, Senate Representative of the Oversight Committee on Jedi Affairs, had finally arrived.

Obi-Wan's anxiety turned to astonishment when Master Sle'fey ignored the official, saying instead, "And if we told you that we were going to release Qui-Gon Jinn?"

Zaros stood at the entrance, all bluster and air, venom in his voice. "What is this nonsense of Jinn going free? The Chancellor did not approve such a thing and neither did I."

Master Sle'fey sent a long measured look toward the rat-faced parasite. Today, the man had obviously taken great care in looking as extravagant as he possibly could - the undercoat of black synthsilk studded with Corusca gems and rare Alderaanian shimmer-pearls couched in gold bullion, the overcoat a brilliant cacophony of reds and oranges with stylized tracings of the Senate seal in minute stones of ruby and obsidian and topaz.

It was obvious to all except Zaros that the brilliantly-colored plumage only highlighted the fool beneath. Obi-Wan thought it absurdly ironic that the servants of the Republic, Jedi Knights in their homespun tunics, looked far more regal than the garish Senate buffoon.

Master Sle'fey's white fur matted down as he barked out, "Representative Zaros, I do not believe you were invited to this meeting."

Stalking over to the Bothan and thrusting his pasty face mere centimeters from Sle'fey's muzzle, the beady eyes of Kenth Zaros bore into the hard durasteel-blue of the Councilor's own. The opulent bureaucrat all but spat his disdain, "I do not need an invitation. And frankly, if Master Tharten had not told me of this, I would not have gotten here in time to hear this ridiculous idea."

The Bothan Councilor leaned back, blinking slowly and deliberately as he stared at the man. "Former Master Jinn is innocent of the charges of murder."

Zaros slapped his hand against the nerf-hide arm of Sle'fey's seat, sending a sharp crack echoing in the room. When the Councilor did not react, he backed off, brushing at his coat and then sitting abruptly in Tharten's empty chair. Huffing in disbelief, he said, "Absurd."

Looking down his muzzle at the Senate's emissary, Sle'fey was all stately grace and calm courtesy in the way his paw waved toward Zaros. But his eyes reflected banked fury. "Nevertheless, it is true. Master Xacor and I went over the datacrystals thoroughly last night. Both Obi-Wan and Padawan Sl'etah were correct. There was an embedded code in the datastream that brought up false information. We have since been able to trace it back to Coruscant, to the Jedi Temple. One of the Order's own sliced it into the datasystem." He flicked a glance at Xacor and wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Quite sophisticated, too. The person who did this was unusually adept at manipulation."

The bureaucrat frowned, glaring at the Councilors. "Who is it, then? I want names. This sort of thing would look bad for my subcommittee if the holonet media ever got hold of it."

"I cannot say but you will know in time." Sle'fey exchanged pointed looks with Xacor but his reply was Jedi serene and very decided.

Apparently, Zaros didn't appreciate the answer; the sarcasm in his voice was kilometers deep. "How very convenient."

Carelessly nodding, Sle'fey muttered, "Yes, it is but I am confident that we will have what we need by day's end." Then he turned away, ignoring the sputtering cretin.

Obi-Wan watched the whole episode with frank astonishment. He had never seen Master Sle'fey so dismissive before, certainly not toward the man who held the power to control the fortunes of the Jedi. Much as he disliked the agent, he knew that the man could cut off all funding for the Order if he so chose. That the Councilor could be so surly and abrupt with Zaros was alarming.

However, he did not have time to ponder the events. The phantom pain of his overnight torment lingered even as the last of the suppression effect was leaching away. To think that Qui-Gon was still being tortured in that damnable place was grotesque. His eyes darting about the room, trying to gather support for his cause, Obi-Wan pressed for his old mentor's release. "Why is Qui-Gon still imprisoned if you think he is innocent?"

He was surprised when Master Zacor shifted in his seat and looked away for a moment, the Zabrak nervously staring down at his datapad and muttering something that Obi-Wan couldn't quite catch.

Master Sle'fey obviously could hear every word. Muzzle twisting in annoyance or frustration or worry, he murmured something quietly in return before raising his voice to explain, "He is not without guilt. Even you know this, Obi-Wan."

"You can't prove that he is a slaver or someone helping runaways. And my suspicions are only that, suspicions. You have no evidence of wrong-doing."

Although Obi-Wan had expected dismissal of his concerns, even an argument, instead there was astonishing agreement. Nodding once, Sle'fey said, "You are correct. We cannot prove that he was transporting slaves to Naboo, either to sell them or to free them. He must be judged innocent of the charge at this time."

Representative Zaros was having none of it. He seemed to grow more and more frenzied as Sle'fey spoke of Qui-Gon's innocence. His face flushed a mottled red. He puffed his chest out in an obvious ploy to get attention and stood up, waving his fists in the air at the Jedi.

"Have you lost your mind, Sle'fey? Slave-trading or helping runaways... it doesn't matter. It's illegal." Thrusting his finger at the Bothan, he spat out, "You have no right to say that he is free of taint. The Senate will not sit still for this." He began to pace, the bright morning sunlight blazing across his clothes, sending sparkles of color into the Chamber, a beautiful counterpoint to the tension in the room.

Sle'fey all but snapped at the bureaucrat. He pointed to the chair, gesturing with one claw and growling, "They will if they have no choice. Now sit down, Zaros, and let the Council do what needs to be done."

His beady eyes glittering with malice, a thunderous frown crossing his face, Kenth Zaros swelled up even further. "Who do you think you are, telling me what to do? I am in charge here, not you. And frankly this whole idea of Jinn being innocent of the murders will not sit well with the Chancellor or the Senate Committee. I have it on good authority that Jinn's imprisonment was a foregone conclusion. To change it now..."

"So you are saying that for expediency's sake, you would send an innocent man to prison. How very just of you."

The Bothan's voice was winter-cold and his white fur was as flat as Obi-Wan had ever seen it. There was danger here and he wasn't sure if Zaros realized it yet.

The Senate's fool just glared back at Sle'fey, ignorant of the emotions that were stirring behind the dark eyes of the Councilor or else ignoring them. He sputtered, "I don't appreciate your tone, Jedi. I am in control, not you. If the Republic wants punishment of an obvious criminal, then who are you to deny that?"

Obi-Wan had never heard the Bothan speak with such contempt before. "I, sir, am a Jedi Master, a guardian of peace and justice. And I say that you can either sit down and listen to the truth or you can leave."

Choking back laughter, Zaros raised his voice. "Peace and justice! You can't be serious. You have no authority to force me to do anything."

"Oh yes, I do and I will if you do not be quiet. Things will become clear to you when the time is right. Not before." The glare in Sle'fey's eyes would have silenced a more intelligent man. "You have not taken over the Jedi Order yet, and if I have anything to say about it, you never will."

Zaros could never be accused of being bright. But he did have the audacity of someone used to the oily acquiescence of sycophants and it would seem that he could not allow anyone to challenge his authority, even a Jedi - especially a Jedi. "You cannot think you can speak to me this way. I have the full authority of the Senate to act as I see fit when it comes to dealing with the Order. I can have you dismissed with the wave of my hand."

"Then I suggest you think about waving your hand elsewhere. The Jedi Order has taken its last command from the likes of you." With that, Sle'fey turned away, reaching for his datapad and looking at it with studied care, deliberately ignoring Zaros.

"How dare..." The bureaucrat was wild with indignation. He towered over Sle'fey, his fists raised in fury, but the Bothan seemed to take it all in stride.

Leaning to one side, looking past the blustering fool, Sle'fey said calmly, "Knight Rostak, have one of your men escort our esteemed Senate Representative to my office, lock him in and then return. I'll deal with him when this session of the Council is finished."

One hulking guard marched over, and lightsaber in hand, gestured for Zaros to move away, toward the entrance and the offices beyond. When the Senate agent refused to comply, the Jedi wrapped his hand around the arm of the indignant bureaucrat and began to pull him from the Chamber. A steady stream of foul language followed but as the doors began to close, Zaros let out one final threat, "You will regret this..."

When the bronzium doors groaned shut, Sle'fey leaned back and said sarcastically, "I regret it already."

One and all turned toward the Bothan Councilor, astonishment and disbelief and just a touch of satisfaction crowding the room. Several of the younger Masters sat there silent and concerned; Xacor merely nodded and went back to looking at his datapad. But Senior Masters Veendo and Nunb were both sputtering in fury.

The Rodian was the first to speak, his green skin almost grey as he tried to rein in his contempt and anger. His wet snout spattered drops of wet mucus as he swung toward Sle'fey. "You can't do that. Master Tharten would never agree to such a thing. You can't just unilaterally speak for the whole Council. You haven't got the authority."

"Veendo is right. This is completely unacceptable. The Senate will certainly cut off our funding and you will be dismissed as soon as Zaros gets back to his office." Nunb was almost gibbering as he struggled with his agitation at this turn of events.

Master Sle'fey was calm, cool and very clear about his contempt. "Tharten is not present. And after today, I will have all the authority I need. You would be wise, both of you, to look to your own freedom. The Jedi will no longer accept treachery to their own."

With that, Nunb turned a sludgy brown and settled back into his chair, peering at the other Councilors as if trying to find support for himself and finding none. Shaken, blinking furiously, he looked sickened and guilty.

Master Veendo was more aggressive, pressing his verbal attack. "Treachery... how dare you! When Master Tharten gets here, we will see just who is in charge. And you will be dismissed from this Council at the very least. What do you think you are doing?"

"Yes, when Master Tharten reveals herself, we will indeed see who is in charge. For now, she is not." Sle'fey turned away and started to speak to Xacor but Veendo cut him off.

"I will not stay here and be a party to this foolishness." He started to rise, his grey-green face sweaty with fear and fury. "If you come to your senses, I will be glad to speak to Representative Zaros and try and fix this fiasco. Until then, I will be at the Senate chambers."

The Bothan Master lifted his paw and gestured for one of the guards to step forward. In a perfectly calm, even tone, he said, "Master Veendo, I recommend that you remain here until this is finished. You are completely safe as long as you do not interfere. And I'm sure that Representative Zaros will understand when it is explained to him and you may do so when this is finished. Besides, it won't take long." The threat remained unspoken but no one in the room could deny that he was in control of the situation. Apparently, leaving without permission was not an option.

Obi-Wan did not think that the Rodian could turn any greyer but he was wrong. Veendo was positively ashen. And he couldn't blame the Master; after all, this was unprecedented. He watched as the Councilor slowly sat back down, glaring at Sle'fey the whole time.

Concerned and more than a little perplexed, Obi-Wan remained silent. It was clear that there was a power play going on and Sle'fey was likely maneuvering to try and take over the Council, perhaps even the Jedi Order itself. But if that were so, why was he here? He had no influence or power within the Order. He was held in contempt by most of the Council and the senior members usually went out of their way to torment him, even before this mission. It didn't add up, at least not yet. He could only be patient and wait it out. But in the back of his mind, the harsh, gibbering memory of that cell reminded him that Qui-Gon was still trapped below - in pain.

Sle'fey, his white fur gleaming and sleek, looked at the Zabrak and asked, "Is everything in place?"

It was obvious that Zak Xacor, head of the Hunter's Group, was aware and agreed with the struggle that was being played out here. He pointed to his datapad and smiled rather wickedly. "Yes. She disabled the holovids but I've planted new monitors in the cell block and they are working perfectly. She should be there momentarily."

"Good. Let me know when she arrives." The Bothan sat back, seemingly comfortable with the situation, ignoring the tendrils of hatred and fear swirling in the air and through the Force.

Perhaps this is what Obi-Wan had felt earlier, the danger sense showing him that the Order was about to change. But there was no more time for speculation as Sle'fey twisted to meet his gaze, "Knight Kenobi, with the exception of the lightsabers, Jinn is innocent of the charges. Even possession of a Jedi's weapon is acceptable if he has permission from the Jedi Council."

Obi-Wan held his breath. Was Sle'fey going to...?

"I hereby give him that permission."

The relief Obi-Wan felt could not be expressed in mere words - it sang in the Force, seeming to push back the ever-deepening shadows that had permeated the Council chamber. As long as Sle'fey was in charge and it seemed likely that he would be so at least for the near future, his old mentor would not go to prison after all. He would be able to return home, to go back to doing the work he loved and to the people that he loved - to Le'orath and Ben and even to Anakin. This was a welcome gift and he was profoundly grateful for it. "Thank you, Master Sle'fey. He will be happy to return to Naboo and his home."

He was also wary. There was always a price for such a gift.

The political machinations of this Council were sending skittering tendrils of apprehension down his back. The darkness was growing again, and while he did not yet know where the danger lay, the Force was trying to send him warnings that he would be a fool to ignore.

Anxious to free Qui-Gon from his prison, he bowed quickly and turned to go. He did not notice the concerned looks that passed between the two Masters nor the deep shame that seemed to settle on the Zabrak's face.

"Not so fast."

Obi-Wan froze. The relief he had felt evaporated like mist before a supernova. They wanted something from him, something that would be costly, something that they were not sure he'd be willing to pay. That was why he was here alone - without his old Master, without his Padawan. They were using him for some reason of their own and they needed him to be here - now.

The anxiety he'd been feeling rocketed skyward. This was not good.

Sle'fey raised one paw, his muzzle dropping down as he glanced away for a moment, out into the distant cityscape. He looked almost guilty. Then he gathered himself together with an almost imperceptible shake of his fur and drew back, staring straight at Obi-Wan. He seemed self-assured and clearly in control but his eyes were full of shadow. "I am truly sorry, my friend. If we could have done this any other way…."

So he had been right after all. The price would be high indeed. "What do you mean?"

Before the Bothan could reply, Xacor interrupted, his finger pointing to the datapad. "Trest, she's arrived at the cell but she's just standing there, watching him."

"She hasn't moved yet?" Sle'fey's growl was low-pitched and annoyed and concerned.

The Zabrak just shook his head. "No. But she has her lightsaber and, from what I can tell, apparently a vibroshiv in her hand."

Obi-Wan didn't like the sound of that. They kept talking about a cell and he could only assume that it contained one former Jedi Master, his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn. If a woman was down there with a weapon in her hand and Qui-Gon helpless in that place…. Blast, what were they thinking leaving him there alone and unarmed?

Glaring at them both, almost shaking with the burgeoning polluted feel in the Force, fists clenching and unclenching as if he would throttle every Councilor in the chamber if he had to in order to get to the bottom of this, he stepped toward Sle'fey. His grey eyes were blazing a trail back and forth between the Bothan and Xacor, daring them.

He wanted the truth and he wanted it now – before it was too late.

"What is going on?" He would have thought that his demand for answers would have brought about another argument or even a reprimand but the two Councilors remained shamefully silent. Xacor turned his face away and looked down at his datapad as if gathering comfort from its green light; Sle'fey just radiated guilt. The other Jedi Councilors shifted uncomfortably in the ongoing stillness.

Centering himself, reaching into the knots of light and dark that seemed to wheel about the room like poisonous kreelbats seeking prey, he drew in one deep breath and another. Then opening his eyes, he was finally beginning to understand why and where and how. He was being used and the taste of it was ash and dust and the decay of the Jedi Order.

After all he had learned in the past week, after all the lies and accusations and shifting realities, he finally realized just what he was, a fool - a blind, trusting naive fool. And his Master was going to pay for his folly.

Obi-Wan's voice was almost calm. "You were going to dismiss the charges against Qui-Gon anyway. And if you already knew this morning, why wasn't he released when I was brought here? Why is he still down there?"

He didn't need to hear the answer. It was plain as the shame and tattoos on Xacor's face and the guilt of durasteel blue in the eyes of the Bothan Councilor. They were merely to confirm what he already knew.

Qui-Gon was the dangling bait in a quarlle trap. And Obi-Wan was just in the way.


	49. Chapter 24: Freefall part 2

**Chapter 24 - Freefall**

**Part 2**

Bait in a trap and there was nothing Obi-Wan could do.

Sle'fey's voice was steady as he said, "He needs to remain in his cell for the moment. He is going to play a pivotal role just as you have done."

"You are using him. It's all part of this grand design of yours, a trap for one of your enemies." The last bitter dregs of hope cluttered his throat; he could barely speak. Disgust and utter contempt for these corrupt beings began to seep into his gut and he just wanted to leave, rescue Qui-Gon and fly away from here, never to return.

Sle'fey looked distinctly uncomfortable at the way Obi-Wan was glaring at him but his reply was Jedi cool. "Yes, and she's walked right into it."

"She?" The deadly tone would have quashed a lesser being but the Bothan just continued to watch him calmly as Obi-Wan reasoned it out. "It's Tharten, isn't it? She's not here and you've been... how long have you been planning this?"

"A long time." The answer was off-handed, serene and complacent, as if it were of no consequence to anyone.

To anyone but the one who had been used.

"It all begins to make sense now. You... you sent me on this mission. You used me to bring him back here. And to think that I pleaded time after time to be able to contact him and you never let me. You and this damned Council. Why? Was it too soon for your little plot to let me see him before now?"

Obi-Wan folded his arms about his chest, trying to keep in the warmth that was leaching out with every word he said. He had been a fool for so very long. It was almost obscene that they could have used him this way, drawing him into their conspiracy without his knowledge or consent - to manipulate him like this. He felt violated.

Xacor's voice was soft. "I'm sorry, Obi-Wan."

But Sle'fey only said, "She has been careful for a very long time but she hates Qui-Gon, unreasonably so. He has done nothing to her but she sees only injury and destruction. And she looks at you and remembers. His Padawan."

He was about to go on but the Zabrak Master interrupted. "Trest, I think we should bring up the vid feeds. Let everyone see what she is doing down there."

Squirming in his seat, Veendo looked as if he were about to object but Xacor just stared at him for a moment and he subsided reluctantly. Some of the other Councilors were murmuring among themselves and Master Nunb just sat there, crouching in his chair, trying to look innocent and failing miserably.

Nodding, Sle'fey said, "I agree. We have enough evidence to convict her on lesser charges but I want to know who she's working for. His name, not just some nebulous shadow that we can't bring to justice. I doubt that she's informed her co-conspirators about it." He looked toward the other Councilors but none would meet his eyes. He just humphed in disgust at the sight and nodded back towards Xacor.

With a wave of one tattooed hand, the small holovid projector sent shimmering blue forms and sound into the dusty chamber air.

Obi-Wan could see that Tharten was playing with some controls at the entrance to cell AA23, humming quietly to herself. She seemed excited, almost aroused as if she had just come down from the heights of pleasure or perhaps beaten some helpless fool to death. It was clear that she was thoroughly enjoying the moment.

Beyond, Qui-Gon was huddled in the corner, his clothes splattered with sprays of red-brown stains, his hair matted with sweat. On his face were cuts. He had obviously tried to scratch himself and the blood was still oozing out of one cut. He was shivering, muttering incoherently, deep in the throes of that phantom terror.

Tharten was smiling.

Frantically looking around, seeing if he could persuade someone to see that this was not right, that Qui-Gon was incapable of defending himself from any threat right now, Obi-Wan pleaded, "I have to get down there. Can't you feel it? The darkness…."

Xacor was not listening as he cut across Obi-Wan's frenzied words. "She's hit the override controls. The feedback device and Force suppressors are off."

Obi-Wan turned away, heading for the door - permission be damned - but the guards just blocked his way. Twisting back, his face stark and furious and terrified for his old mentor, he looked at the Bothan, daring him to do the right thing and let him go.

Instead Sle'fey just patted his paw in the air. "Stay where you are, Kenobi. We have to let this play out."

In the blue mist of holotransmission, he could see his Master shudder off the feedback effects, wiping at the blood with one feeble hand, blinking out at the shadowy form just beyond his cell. He looked confused and very ill, a weak old man.

"He is helpless down there."

"He is doing what needs to be done. Bait to draw her out. Just as you were used for all those years." Sle'fey wasn't even looking at Obi-Wan, didn't seem to consider his words. He was focused on Tharten, his eyes glittering with anticipation.

Obi-Wan was also intent on the scene before him, so much so that he almost missed what the Bothan had said - that this had been going on for years, that he had been as much a piece of meat to draw out the predator as Qui-Gon was now. He wasn't sure if he should be horrified at the thought or resigned that he, too, was merely a long-term pawn in this power play of the Council.

"Years?" He knew he had to ask the question but he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.

There must have been something in Obi-Wan's voice, perhaps as raw and husked and vulnerable as he felt. Sle'fey sat up, and blinking rapidly at the turn of events, stared at him.

"Of course. You don't think this was recent, do you?" He made it sound as if Obi-Wan should have known all along, as if it were obvious even to a battered fool of a Knight.

Sle'fey turned back to watch the unfolding drama, only half-conscious of speaking as he watched Tharten saunter into the cell. "She darkened several years ago, using the chaos of that time to take control of the Council. With the help of someone high up in the Senate - we don't know who it is as yet although I have my suspicions."

Stopping for a moment, he watched as she moved closer to her victim, as she stared down at Qui-Gon with rabid hunger in her eyes.

With a little shudder, Sle'fey murmured, "She hides it well, twisting light into darkness and making it seem as if it was the right thing to do; she is insidiously clever. And you were a special case, Obi-Wan. I think she hated you as much as she wanted you. To control you, to manipulate you into being exactly what she wanted you to be. It seemed almost a mania to her - to force her enemy's apprentice into her slimy hands, to do her will and more." He pointed down toward the blue figures wavering in the air. "Look at her. Who could think she is anything but dark?"

All eyes turned toward the shimmering forms as Qui-Gon, obviously exhausted from his ordeal with the cell's torture device, struggled to rise. Sera Tharten stood there, still smiling, playing with something that gleamed metallic in the harsh glare of the prison cell.

Speaking softly, the Bothan stared unblinking at the tableau. "It made things so much easier for us, Obi-Wan. She would expend such large amounts of energy just trying to get you to agree to her designs that she was paying less attention to what we were doing."

The Rodian Councilor was livid, spiraling around toward the other Council members and spitting out, "We? There is no _we_ here. You won't get away with this. If this is some kind of game..."

"No game, Veendo. We have proof of her wrong-doings and her treason against the Order. And you and your followers as well."

Obi-Wan could see the nervousness in Veendo's eyes and the way his green skin turned slick-gray and wet with fear. "What are you saying, Sle'fey? You have no proof. Now turn off the vid and we can discuss this like rational beings. After all, we are Jedi and we can..."

Swiveling around, eyes hard and sure as the thickest durasteel, he glared at Veendo, all but snarling back, "Don't. Don't pretend that you are ignorant. Did you think we would let you would get away with the gutting of the Order? Did you and Nunb and the others think that we would turn a blind eye to this? She has been siphoning off money, personnel and supplies for years. She has sought to destroy the Order for her own gain and yours. Twisting the Jedi into darkness and defeat and despair. And you helped her do it."

Sle'fey looked away for a moment, his fur swirling in agitation and shame. Turning back to face the transmission, he growled out, "Damn, I helped her by going along with it all, by not fighting back. I should have had the courage to face her in the open, in the clean air. But no more. We will not allow it to continue. We will save the Jedi, even from _you_."

Pulling back at the vehemence in the Bothan's voice, Veendo tried to brazen it out. "You are bluffing."

"We shall see."

There was no more time for this. Tharten was on the move once more. Her voice was tinny and small but she could clearly be heard in the Council Chamber. "How the mighty have fallen. Although I must admit that you have looked better."

As Qui-Gon tried to stand, she waved him back down saying, "Don't bother getting up just for me, Jinn. I'm enjoying this, you scurrying about on the floor like some kind of repulsive insect. And bleeding, too, I see. Did that delicious Padawan of yours finally come to his senses and turn on you? "

Obi-Wan's heart was lodged in his throat, the pain of watching his Master try to face his enemy with courage when he was so weakened by the cell's effects almost too much to bear. After several seconds, Qui-Gon managed to struggle to his feet. He stood there, swaying dangerously, one hand grasping at the wall behind him to steady his movements. He looked exhausted.

Lifting his head slowly, blinking as if he was fast losing what little energy he had left, Qui-Gon rasped out, "Leave him alone."

Tharten snickered, her form wavering in the blue transmission mist. But as she turned to one side, the gleaming object in her hand came into view and Obi-Wan could see a sleek vibroshiv, all metallic sharp, wickedly pointed, ready to be used to rend meat and bone apart.

"I thoroughly enjoyed watching your pathetic attempts at avoiding this cell's more interesting effects. Obi-Wan can be quite inventive when pushed. I'll be sure and take him in hand when you are gone."

Qui-Gon's voice was as cold as the space between galaxies. "He will never join you."

Lifting the shiv, looking at the line of wickedly thin blade, her smile twisted into delight. "He will - with time and persuasion. When I've finally molded him into the Jedi he should be. Too bad you won't be there to see it."

"You are wrong." The low rasp could not hide his weakness but the strength of will came through. He moved slowly along the wall, one hand outstretched and clinging to the surface as he slid away from Tharten.

She followed him, shaking her head and waving the shiv around like an accusing finger. "Qui-Gon, you are as stubborn and addled as you ever were. You could never see clear to true understanding of the Force and the nature of power. Always so righteous, so controlled, so nauseatingly noble."

Obi-Wan could hardly breathe. His Master was vulnerable, half out of his mind with the terror of that place, surrounded by hatred. The Force was ever growing darkness, was all but screaming at him to move, to get down there and protect Qui-Gon before it was too late.

But he was trapped. They both were.

He turned to the Bothan, trying to get him to see that this was not going to work, that Qui-Gon was in trouble.

"Master Sle'fey, please. He's in danger down there. She looks like...he'll be helpless against her with the suppression and residual effects. She could do anything and he'd be unable to stop her. Let me go to him. Or send someone else. Master, please."

Xacor spoke up, unfurling fear in his voice, "Trest, he's right. She isn't going to tell him anything, not and let him live. Let Kenobi go or send some of the guards."

The pain in Sle'fey's eyes were very real but he merely shook his head in stubborn denial. It was almost as if he did not want to accept that his plan had failed, that she would not give him what he wanted, that Qui-Gon could be more than just a pawn, that the Bendu could be dead before long if someone did not act quickly.

"We cannot. She's done nothing wrong, not even threatened him. Until..."

Master Tharten's harsh laugh skittered through the ether, obscene little snaps of static. "Well, this has been quite enjoyable but I have a job to do. I would have liked to postpone this when we would have had more time but my Master has insisted that you be dealt with today."

They could all feel it - the darkness, the danger to one who had once been a Jedi, to Qui-Gon Jinn.

Obi-Wan let out a shuddering gasp; his eyes begged for release. "Let me go."

In the blue wavering light, they could see Qui-Gon looking at her, blinking rapidly, brushing aside a tendril of hair that has plastered itself on his exhausted and bloodied face. "Master? And who would that be, Sera?"

Pulses of smoke and blood-red were beginning to swirl about in the Force, clotting into whirlpools of frothing danger. Darkness ribboned through the luminescence currents, deep despair and pain spreading like black ooze into the flow. Everywhere the Force was demanding that there was peril, that they had to act before it was too late.

Too late.

Sliding along the wall, leaving a trail of sweat and crimson behind, Qui-Gon tried to move away from Tharten but to no avail. She merely sauntered over, reaching up to caress his still-oozing cheek. He jerked backwards, but her hand came away, smeared with his blood.

In the Council Chamber of the Jedi Order, his voice hitching in desperation, Obi-Wan looked frantically from one Councilor to the other, whispering, "Let me go, let me go."

No one would listen to his urgent plea.

Tharten stared for a moment at her bloodied fingertips, then deliberately licked at her hand, watching Qui-Gon as she did it. "The one who taught me the true meaning of the Force, of power and how to use it. You might have met him."

She held up her hand to his face, her palm still wet with saliva and blood, and wiped the remains onto his tunic. "Darth Sidious."

The Council was suddenly in an uproar. The disjointed noise of voices raised in horror, the howls of "Darth...Sidious" and "She's been in league with a Sith Lord?" and "How could she be?" and "They have been extinct for a millennium" seemed to fill the room with an echoing cacophony of sound and surging discord.

Yet even more ominous, in the Force, the swirling oily darkness was pouring in, had become duracreet blocks of black ice, choking everything in a slushy avalanche of frozen dark terror and blood.

No... no... no!

Obi-Wan forgot to breath, could only watch helplessly as Tharten laughed at his Master's stunned look. "You must have done something to anger Sidious very much."

As Qui-Gon tried to fall back, away from Tharten's hand, she surged forward, grabbing onto his splattered tunic. With one sharp jerk, she pulled him to her, her lips hovering above his own even as he stared at her in revulsion. Her voice grew husky with satisfaction as she breathed, "So I have a message for you."

Then as she forced her mouth over his, making obscene noises in her throat even as he struggled to push her away, she brought up her other hand and plunged the gleaming shiv deep into his gut.

Obi-Wan's despair was loud in the Force, tearing through it with black shards of ice and dark fury. But there were no shouts of rage, no calls for revenge or retribution, only the horrified whisper, "No."

In the blue waver of photons and energy patterns, he could see his Master's eyes glazing over in shock as he slipped off the blade and fell into a boneless heap to the floor. A bubbling rasp of pain, breathing harsh and troubled, he looked up at her and frowned a question.

Sera Tharten, Head of the Jedi Council, looked down at her handiwork. She said ordinarily as if they were discussing flavors of tea, "Death, the sentence is death." She carelessly dropped the bloodied shiv next to his agonized face.

Obi-Wan stared at the scene, his mind gibbering in pain, his heart not beating any more. It could not be real, it could not be.

As if from a deep well, the sound so far removed from reality that he could not comprehend it, he heard Master Sle'fey whisper out, "I am truly sorry, Obi-Wan. If it could have been any other way..."

With that, the fury bubbling beneath the surface of his skin burst out. He flung back the paw that had rested so sympathetically on his shoulder, shouting at the vile creature that had arranged this horror.

"Liar! You have betrayed me! You have betrayed him. You have betrayed the very Order you say that you wish to save."

From behind him, Xacor's words had no meaning, merely registered as coherent sound. "Obi-Wan, he's not dead yet. We'll send down a Healer and some guards. They might be able to keep him alive if we act now. But you have to let go."

Blinking wildly, Obi-Wan's crimson rage cleared enough to see that he had his hands around Sle'fey's throat. With a horrified cry, he loosened his fingers, letting the Councilor drop half-crouching onto the floor. He didn't even remember using the Force.

Sle'fey was gulping air, the hasping rattle loud in the room but his blue eyes held no malice. Drawing back up, he reached behind him and brought out Obi-Wan's saber, offering it to him in apology. He ground out a whisper, "Obi-Wan, go. Help him. I'm so..."

But Obi-Wan did not stay to hear the rest. He sprinted out the door, was on his way to the bottom of the Temple, to save his Master.

If only he could get there in time.


	50. Chapter 25: Down the stairway to despair

**Chapter 25 - Down the Stairway to Despair**

_Hurry... hurry... hurry..._

His heart wanted to burst out of his body even as it seemed to beat in time to his terrified thoughts. As Obi-Wan raced for the turbolift, almost skidding in his haste, his mind kept howling a desperate_, Don't die, Qui-Gon. Don't you dare die on me. _

Intent on reaching the single working lift, trying to burn a hasty trail to its shabby doors and force them open with sheer will if necessary, frantic to reach his Master before it was too late, he scarcely noticed the sharp sounds behind him - of Sle'fey calling for backup and Healers and Xacor's strident voice rising in an effort to be heard over the increasing cacophony of chaos that was the Jedi Council.

Instead, all that he was, all that he knew, was focused on a single purpose - saving Qui-Gon from certain death.

As he stared at the frustratingly unopened doors of the turbolift, for one microsecond, he considered taking the stairs. But as much as he wanted to fly to his Master's side, he knew it was an absurd idea. It was a hundred stories or more to the bottom of the Temple and he would never reach his Master in time.

The lift was notoriously slow; it had always been used as a lesson in patience. And the others had been broken for more years that he could care to remember. There was only one way down and he had to wait.

Force help him, he had to wait here while Qui-Gon lay dying at Tharten's feet.

Obi-Wan knew that he needed to calm down, to find his center, to let go of his fear. He would be no help to Qui-Gon or anyone else if he did not. But it was so blasted hard, especially after the Sith-demon had gutted his Master and the turbolift was taking _so... damn... long_.

His hand tightened reflexively on his saber as he stood there and tried not to panic.

_Hurry... hurry... _

It seemed like several lifetimes later but at last he heard it, the slight off-pitched whir of opening lift doors. Obi-Wan tensed, ready to leap into the car just as soon as he had enough clearance. His heart seemed to pound into his braincase as he started to move forward.

But his way was blocked. Some gundark was filling the space between the door and his escape into the turbolift, a fool who would not get out of the way fast enough for him. As he tried to twist around the obstruction, he realized that he knew this person, this petite maroon-haired woman who stood there in ragged Jedi robes, looking so flustered, so unhappy, so... it was his Padawan, Atel. He hadn't even recognized her in his grief.

Her face was a map of frown and concern and she just stared at him for a moment in shock. She opened her mouth - to pour out a greeting, to ask him a question - he did not know. All he could think of was to get into the lift and push it downward as quickly as possible. He sidestepped past her, shoving her roughly out of the way and stabbed at the bottom-most button.

As the doors slid shut, Atel deftly slipped back into the car and stood there, gaping at him. "Master, what happened? You... you look terrible. Jinn didn't do that, did he? He..." Her small hand was reaching for him as if to comfort, and her eyes was filled with anxiety.

But Obi-Wan would have none of it. The Jedi, the Council, her constant assumptions, it was all too much. "He would never..." He snapped back at her. "Blast it, Atel, must everything out of your mouth be a condemnation of him?"

She blinked in surprise, her eyes huge with shock. Pulling back, anxious and confused, she frowned her worry. "Forgive me but you were with him and now you are covered in blood. What else could I think?"

Looking down, he stared unseeing at the splotches of red-brown, little patches of despair scattered over his tunic - Jedi cloth stained in dried gore. He was wrapped in it, Jedi duty and disaster, filthy and torn. It was once a proud symbol of who he was. Now it was only reflected what he had become and what he had always been, rubbish to be discarded when their use of him was done.

Even his saber, clutched so tightly in his hand, was dark with dirt and neglect. Growling in disgust, he shoved it into the pocket of his leggings and tried not to think of the Council's betrayal.

But he could not let it go. He teetered between fury and grief; his heart was pounding out the seconds as the moment to save Qui-Gon began to slip through his fingers. _Hurry… hurry…._

When he was able to look up again, he saw her anxious face and realized that she would never understand. "It doesn't matter now."

Obi-Wan turned away, punching again at the control panel. It was all he could do to keep himself from tearing into the wiring and over-riding the safety protocols - anything to speed it up. He began to think that freefall would not be fast enough, not if he was too late. Frustrated, he all but snarled, "Why is it taking so long?"

The turbolift seemed to groan in reply. But Atel didn't flinch at the sound, didn't seem to notice. Standing next to him, she asked carefully, "Master, where are we going?"

Scowling at the controls, he watched helplessly as the readout slowly counted down towards his destination but it was easier than looking at her condemnation. He tried to sound calm but the terror of what had happened, of what was happening now, leached through. "To rescue Qui-Gon. Before that monster finishes what she started." A fierce, half-whisper caught in his throat. "Don't you dare die on me."

Troubled astonishment colored her voice. "Rescue? Monster? Does the Council know of this?"

He twisted abruptly, glaring down into Atel's worried eyes. "Council... that sea of rshhak filth." Even now, he could not begin to comprehend how much they had betrayed him and Qui-Gon. Years of being used - he felt as if he had never been so dirty, so violated in the purity of his service to the Order. How could they do this? How could they?

Atel shrunk away, looking as if he had struck her. Then stepping forward, her mouth grim with determination, she began to make excuses. "Master, what are you saying? They were mistaken about punishing you but they were only trying to do..."

Grabbing onto his arm as she spoke, she was jostling him a little with each word but he roughly shook her off. Staring at her, hoarse with disbelief, he spat back, "Naive little fool. Your so-called honorable Jedi Council has manipulated us into this. For power, using everyone around them for their own ends."

"Master, stop it." She was very firm.

Looking up into his eyes, her own were filled with compassion, certainly not with the anger he had expected when he accused her precious Council of wrong-doing. If he had not been so furious and terrified for his old Master, he would have pressed for answers. As it was, it didn't matter. He had to focus on rescue, not delve into the mistaken assumptions of one Padawan Learner.

But he would like her by his side in this. She could be of enormous help if only she would see the truth of it. "Don't you understand? Those slimy obscenities have used him, have used me like bloody meat dangling in their trap. And Qui-Gon is going to pay..."

The frown on her young face deepened with each word. "Trap? But Master Tharten said…."

He stopped breathing then. His body knew even before his mind had caught up to the sheer enormity of it.

She had talked to that demon from Ryloth's seventh hell. She had talked to Tharten. It must have been after he had been thrown into that torture chamber for there had been no time before that. Last night, she had consorted with the enemy - while he was in torment.

His fury at the Council and Tharten and the very Jedi Order itself turned on her.

With a voice as deep and as cold as the space between galaxies, he snarled, "What did she say, Atel? Have you and she... have you been spying on me, too? Telling her what you know? Have you?" All the while, he kept moving towards her, his hands outstretched, fingers curled like rancor claws.

Atel stepped back quickly, shaking her head in sharp denial. "Spying? I would never..."

There must have been something in his face. She blanched, almost radiating apprehension, and recoiled there in the corner of the turbolift, putting up her hands as if to stop him from getting too close.

Obi-Wan halted abruptly, looking down at his fingers and then at her. Her skin was corpse-color and she was watching him with wary consternation. Just how far had he gone down the dark path in his fear and anger - attacking Sle'fey and now this? And she thought, Force help him, she thought he was going to attack her. That she could be afraid of him hurt almost as much as the idea of her betraying his trust.

He had to regain his calm before he could face Tharten. He took one deep breath and then another. He would have to be ready when the lift reached the bottom of the Temple or else he would be no good to anyone, least of all Qui-Gon. He twisted aside, staring down at his hands, waiting for the doors to open and allow him to help his old Master.

Atel seemed surprised that he had not pressed for more information. When it was clear he would say nothing else, she said cautiously, "Master Tharten used to talk to me sometimes about you. She asked me yesterday to do what I could to help you. She really cares about you."

Hysteria bubbled just beneath the base of his throat. It was all he could do to keep from laughing at the absurd idea of Tharten caring about anything but herself.

He thought about all the times the Sith-damned Councilor had cornered him, trying to force him into doing something dishonest, always telling him that it was for his own good. He wanted to vomit out the memories. He hissed out, "I'm sure she only wanted the best for me."

With a gentle, hesitant touch, his Padawan was there beside him, tentatively stroking his arm, "Master, you are not well. You are not making sense." She hesitated as if she were afraid to make him angry again, "Master Tharten said you might get like this."

He did laugh then, and even to his own ears, it sounded irrational. It was just so unbelievable that she would defend that woman. Glaring down at her, with a rasping, caustic growl, he said, "Don't speak her name. That rsshak monster. She's working for a Sith lord."

Atel's hand stilled at that and she looked at him with liquid regret. "That's not possible. The Sith have been extinct for a long time. You told me so yourself. I think that…."

"I was wrong. Don't you understand?" He scrubbed at his face, the pain of this conversation skittering under his skin, bubble-pops of anguish, and for a moment, he flashed back to the cell with its own horrors. Black ice slicing through his brain, the panic and terror still there. He tried to push it all away but his voice was ragged with fear for his old Master. "She stabbed him. He's... Qui-Gon is lying in a pool of his own blood right now and he may not live to... she's tried to murder him."

But Atel did not react with dismay, instead frowned at him with disbelief. She shook her head, denial in her eyes. "Master, please calm down and think about this. Master Tharten would never do something so stupid."

"Stupid... yes, I guess it was." He was blinking at her, almost distracted as he thought of all that had taken place in the last few hours. But it was better than thinking of the future, of death and the despair that kept clawing at his heart. "A fatal flaw in her perfect world of corruption. She took the bait."

"Oh Master, you are talking nonsense." She sounded thoroughly miserable.

He looked away, his hands fisting in fury, and stared at the slowly changing turbolift panel. Their progress toward the bottom of the Temple was slow, _too slow, too slow_. He would never reach Qui-Gon in time, not at this rate. And Atel was spouting foolish platitudes. How could she not see?

"Don't you understand? Sle'fey and Xacor set Qui-Gon up. Put him in that cell as if he was some kind of bloody prize, bait to trap her. And she took it. Blast it all to hell, she's tried to kill him and she's down there right now. And he's…."

"Master…." Her voice was soft and so very unhappy as if she believed him to be teetering on the edge of insanity, as if she was determined to pick up the pieces when he came back from the abyss. She was looking at him with such pity that it drove him back into fury.

He did not want it - not her pity, not her incomprehension, not her liquid eyes gazing at him so sadly. And her inability to trust him in this only made his heart shatter into fragments and dust. "I'm going to save him if I can. From her, from you, from the whole damn Jedi Council if necessary." He stabbed again at the controls. "If only I could get this rancor beast of a turbolift to move faster."

Atel grimaced at the sound of flesh against metal, at the slap of his hand against the controls. "This doesn't make sense. Why would they do such a thing to you?"

"Haven't you been listening? For power, power to rule over the Jedi. May they all burn in hell. To trap Tharten and get her to make some damnable mistake. They've been trying for years. Using me as bait." At the look of horror and abject pity in her eyes, he snapped at her, "Did you help them? Have you helped them manipulate me all these years? Spied on me?" She was shaking her head slowly and staring at him with growing concern. "Are you with me or against me, Atel? I have to know."

In soft, gentle, even tones, sounding very much as she did whenever she was faced with some savage beast or crazed madman, she hurried to reassure him. "Master, always with you. You know that. I've wanted only the best for you." She had to stop for a moment, her voice rough with sorrow. "But you are not well. Obviously that cell has made you see things that aren't there. A Sith lord - that's the stuff of legends and holovid stories, not reality."

"You are wrong." Could she not trust him to see what was right before his eyes? Did she know him so little?

By his side again, stroking his arm as if to calm him, she said, "Master Obi-Wan, listen to yourself. Please. Master Tharten told me of the side-effects from that feedback device. Confusion. Paranoia. Sometimes delusions, even after a short time."

"I am not... confused." He stepped back, out of her reach. She thought he was insane and that he was making up a tale so horrifying, so breath-taking in its scope that she thought he was lying about it all - because of his experiences with that torture chamber.

It hurt to breath. He just stood, unsteady, blinking rapidly in the subdued light of the turbolift car and gazed at his Padawan. It was beyond comprehension that she would think so little of him, that she would believe Tharten over someone she had worked with, trusted her life to for all those years. It wasn't enough that the Council betrayed his trust. The Force itself seemed to be at war with him, to take away everything that he had ever valued - his honor, his duty, his love for Qui-Gon, his love for Atel. Was there nothing left? There had to be something; there had to be.

He almost choked out the words. "Tharten has been lying to you, don't you realize that?"

She nodded slowly. "I suspected that she might be. So I broke into your medical files last night. What I learned is that the feedback devise causes changes in a person's outlook. When you got out of the cell last time, you were raving about Qui-Gon dying for hours afterwards. You were paranoid for days before the effects disappeared." She hesitated, then swallowed hard and said, "You even tried to take your own life last time."

How she could believe such filth was beyond his understanding.

He towered over her, frowning down into her resolute face. He knew now that he would go on alone to rescue his Master, that he had no backup, no Padawan at his side, no one to trust in this, no one but his own skills and steadfast determination.

"Lies, all of them. None of that happened." He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to gather his strength for the coming battle. With grim resolve, he said, "Atel, I'm not making it up. Qui-Gon is dying. But you'll see the truth soon enough. We'll get there, hopefully in time. Then I will do what I must."

"So be it." She slid past him, nearing the door. "It must be happening again. I'm sorry, Master but it's for your own good."

The Force hissed a warning, the turbulent currents of dark and light twisting into a black slush of anger and shadowed despair. Cold waves of danger shivered down his spine and Obi-Wan twisted around, looking for the cause. But it was already too late.

Atel reached over, moving toward him as if to grasp onto his arm. As he flinched away, she turned suddenly and pressed the emergency stop control for the turbolift. The car lurched abruptly, a tearing sound echoing in the small space, and then as it came to a complete halt, both Atel and Obi-Wan were thrown to the floor, all limbs and entanglement. In the far distance, an alarm gong started to clang.

He was the first to scramble up, pushing her brusquely aside, and lunging for the controls. But it was not possible to fix it, to change the codes back to its original setting. Once the emergency stop had been engaged, it would take precious minutes to reconnect - minutes that Qui-Gon did not have.

He stood there, looking at the lighted panel in horror. Atel had condemned Qui-Gon to death with her action, condemned Obi-Wan to the hell of knowing that he would not get there in time. Never in time. Stunned, with the ache of bottomless sorrow, he could only whisper, "What have you done?"

"What I must, Master. You need to see the Healers. I'm sure that after..." He could not bear to hear one more word of her lies. He sent a scathing glare at her, and turned away, dismissing her from his mind, his heart, his life. He did not have time for this, not now, not ever again.

Gathering up the Force, he reached out and began to push at the battered doors of the turbolift. He knew that he was close enough now that he could use the stairs to get to Qui-Gon if he could just get out of the lift in time. But the old doors were fighting him. They seemed to be almost alive, squealing into chaotic, high-pitched whines as he began to move them slowly apart; the electronics and servo-mechanisms began to shove back, shuddering with increasing power to stop him.

Atel was grabbing at his arm, trying to divert his attention. She was blathering on about paranoia and seeing the Healers, and he roughly shoved her aside. But it did not stop her. She was back at him in an instant, pulling him, grabbing onto his tunic, and twisting him away from the doors, jabbering all the while that it was for his own good.

It was too much, it was all too much. With one swift sweep of his hand, he Force-shoved her back into the corner of the turbolift, lifting her high into the air and then letting her fall abruptly to the floor. He didn't even look to see if she was all right. He just turned away and began to push at the doors again.

The soaring, strident screams of overheated motors and failing electronics began to war with the stench of burning wiring but the doors were moving apart at long last. He increased the pressure, and with one final shove, Obi-Wan could feel the collapse of the mechanisms as the doors slid apart.

He was between levels, of course, but it was only a meter or so drop to the next one. He slithered through the opening, jumping quickly to the floor and began to sprint for the stairway.

Most of his heart and spirit was focused on trying to reach Qui-Gon but his mind could only admire the irony. As he reached the door to the stairwell and pulled it open, he recognized that he had been at the very same spot only a week ago, telling his Padawan about his first encounter with Qui-Gon Jinn and laughing about it. The rough, abused door was the same but he would never be, not now, not after all that had gone on in the last few days.

But then there was no more time to think about her or forgiveness or the Council or his life beyond the now. There was only movement and the racing clock.

He began to vault downward, Force-jumps to the next level, then a quick spin around the corner and another jump. Spin and leap, twist and turn. His body dove into the rhythm of it; he ignored the sputtering lights and the trash among the treads of the stairway, the cracking tiles and the filthy trails of seeping moisture on the walls. He did not even hear the cry from high above, of Atel shouting down to him, "Master, come back."

There was only jump and turn, downward, downward and a single thought. He had to reach Qui-Gon in time.

_Hurry... hurry... hurry..._


	51. Chapter 26: Conversations Part 1

**Chapter 26 - Conversations with the Living and the Dead**

**Part 1**

Shadows seemed to skitter along the dingy walls, following the lines of blood and terror-sweat toward the crumpled form at Sera Tharten's feet. She could sense the curdling patches of residual rage and jangled, wire-thin pain still threading through the Force, but instead of recoiling at the darkness as any mere Jedi would do, she drank it in.

It was glorious.

Leaning against the doorframe, her body loose and relaxed, she took a deep, cleansing breath, reveling in the victory that was finally hers. She looked about the dank cell in satisfaction: the rivulets of moisture staining the walls despite constant maintenance by the cleaning crews, overhead glows seeming to flicker in chaotic abandon, the harsh slab of seating.

Best of all, there on the duracreet floor, centered among splatters of blood was the harshly breathing form of one pathetic insect, Qui-Gon Jinn.

Even now, she watched as he struggled to get up and attempt to escape his destiny. Such a foolish man to rage so against his fate, to try and gather in enough strength to fight his impending doom.

Could he not see that it was hopeless? His death was inevitable.

Sera had to admit, though, that he was taking rather a long time about it. Dying could be a messy business and rarely went according to schedule. She thought to help him along, but after a moment's pause, she realized that she should savor this wondrous gift. How many times could something so desired come her way?

It was only right that she bask in the splendor of it. After all, she had waited so long to see the fruition of her plans, so very long. She had even doubted herself on occasion, much as the thought of it seemed absurd now. She should have remembered that she was above the rabble, those foolish creatures with doubts and fears; she should have remembered that she was destined for greater things.

That was of little consequence now. Those doubts were long past. The paltry death of the old rsshak at her feet was merely the first step toward her final goal. Soon everything she had ever wanted would be hers: wealth, power beyond anything that the cowards on the Council could perceive, Mastery over the Jedi and over the Republic.

There was one last thing, one more personal goal, one that threaded through all of her dreams even more than Jinn's anticipated destruction.

She wanted, she craved, she would have mastery over that luscious young trifle, Obi-Wan Kenobi. He should be by her side, willing to do whatever she required of him without reservation.

She knew, she was absolutely certain that above all other things, Obi-Wan would come to see that she had been right in the end once his inept cretin of a Master was dead. Young Kenobi was no fool. In time, he would realize that hers was the only way to succeed. In time, he would crave her guidance and do her bidding in all things. She licked her lips at the thought.

Oh, yes, in time it would all be hers: the Republic, the Jedi, Obi-Wan.

The hasty scrabble of fingertips on duracreet brought her back into the moment. While she had been luxuriating in her victory, thinking of how close she was to realizing her dream of power, the ever-troublesome Jinn was being uncooperative again. He had slithered a good meter away, leaving a trail of blood and sweat-slime in his wake. Even now, he was attempting to get up.

She sighed heavily and leaned back, folding her arms about her chest. From here, she could see the effort it cost him. His face was white with concentration and blood-loss, his strained frown cutting deep into his face and making that ridiculously crooked nose of his stand out even more. He looked absurd and pathetic at the same time and very, very vulnerable. This was almost too easy. Almost.

Playing with her enemies especially when they could not fight back had always helped her focus. Now was no different. In a light, lilting voice, she said, "Does it hurt, Qui-Gon?"

When the Bendu scum did not answer but only continued to try to struggle to his feet, paying her no attention, Sera pushed off from the doorway and sauntered slowly over to his side. He hadn't looked well from a distance but up close it was clear that he was in a great deal of pain. He was trembling, too, with a light sheen of effort coating his face, several strands of hair plastered to his skin. He looked like hell but then what else would you expect from someone slowly bleeding to death?

She had to admit that she had expected more of a fight from one of the most infamous Jedi rogues of the age. But then, Jinn always did disappoint. Such a pathetic example of a Jedi Master.

He had curled away from her, and was just beginning to rise, one sinew-sharp hand pushing at the floor, a knee wobbling under his weight. She could feel his feeble efforts in the Force; its muddied currents were polluted with Jinn's inept attempts to gather in its power.

Leaning down, she smiled satisfaction. "You know that it won't work. The effects of this place, the Force-dampening, will last longer than you have to live, my friend. Why don't you just accept it and…. "

The question was never completed. Jinn's hand snaked out, hill-adder fast, grabbing onto her ankle and pulling hard. She went down in a flurry of beige synthsilk and brown robe, all awkward limbs and astonishment, and lay there for a moment.

Jinn scrambled up, and grunting softly as he shifted his weight, one hand pushing at his bloody wound, he stumbled toward the exit. Droplets of gore led a red-stained trail behind him.

She almost laughed at the sight. He thought he could get away from one with her strength. The idea was absurd.

Deciding to play with him a bit, she did not stop him as he staggered toward the door. It was quite amusing to watch him lurch about in a parody of drunken abandon, his boots dragging on duracreet, the sounds of harsh breathing bubbling with agony. It was just too delicious.

She slowly got to her feet and dusted off her robes, all the while watching him stumble and bumble away from her. When he tripped and almost fell, only keeping himself upright through dogged persistence, she snorted softly. He was certainly trying hard to escape, but while it amused her to dangle hope before him like bait, allowing him that reality was not an option.

So as he reached the door, his fingertips brushing against the entry, she lifted one careless hand, and through the Force, yanked him back and away. He soared, flailing about in the air and then hit the duracreet floor like wet meat, face-down and gasping in pain.

Humphing a bit, she watched him as he huddled on the floor, shivering in delayed reaction. But she wanted more; she wanted to see his face. Toeing him with her boot, pushing at him to roll over, he just laid there, a dead weight, bleeding all over the cold, grey floor.

Sera shook her head in disgust. Jinn could be remarkably uncooperative at times. But she knew there was a remedy for inattention, a simple remedy, a time-honored and thoroughly enjoyable one - pain. She stepped back, and with a smooth swift movement, kicked Jinn sharply into his injured side.

It must have had some effect. There was a satisfying yelp and then a long, slow groan and he shifted onto his back, trying still to get away. He was very pale.

She thought that perhaps the end was nearer than she had anticipated but the old rsshak fooled her yet again. It was obvious that he was not quite dead yet as he gasped out, "Why...?"

At least, she had his attention. Sera let out a breathy laugh, all satiated satisfaction. "Why not? I did enjoy it after all. So very much. Watching you bleed to death has been something that I've looked forward to for a very long time. And now we are here." She squatted down, staring into his sweating face, and patting his shoulder in a parody of compassion.

As he shuddered away from her, her hand snaked out and grabbed his tunic, stilling him. "And I'm going to keep you company as you draw your last breath, making sure that you don't escape this time." She gave a chuckle deep in her throat. "You've avoided your fate once too often. Watching you struggle to live and losing. Oh, lovely." She could almost taste the pain.

Qui-Gon frowned up at her, questions and confusion and determination in his eyes. "Obi-Wan will..."

Tossing her head back, she gave a great bark of laughter. She was enjoying this conversation immensely. ""You think he will rescue you. You are very much mistaken, Jinn." She sat back on her haunches, gazing at his bloodied face. "Obi-Wan is quite the fighter. Trying to avoid his fate, doing everything he can to deny his destiny and failing. It has been so very satisfying, especially now that I know he will be mine soon enough."

"He has a... greater... strength than you could hope to know." But the words seemed to exhaust him and he lay back down, his leonine face set with the depth of his conviction.

"I suppose he does. That will make his final surrender all the more delicious." Warmth spread through her as she thought of her future and the day Obi-Wan would be hers at last.

Jinn just kept denying the truth, "He will never join you."

"Won't he?" She let out another amused huff. The man was certainly single-minded and blind to the ways of the galaxy. Gullible and foolish, he saw only what he wanted to see. That, of course, was his downfall.

"Don't worry about him, Qui-Gon. He'll find out soon enough just who's in charge." Glancing upward, she thought about what was happening at this very moment, in the Chamber of the most High Jedi Council - those foolish sycophants and lesser beings trying and failing to understand the uses of true power - and Obi-Wan caught in the middle of it all. "He's up there right now, discussing his fate and yours with the Council, oblivious to what is going on under his feet. When he finds out... well, your tragic end will drive him deeper into the dark."

"No." His thready whisper was laced with disgust.

Smiling down at the fool's pain-filled eyes, she murmured satisfaction. "Ripe, succulent and so very powerful. He will be a valuable addition to my group."

"Never…."

She just shook her head, looking at him with a remote pity. "When he learns that his beloved Master committed suicide. While he wasn't here to prevent it. You all alone and so desperate. Of course he will. The guilt should drive him and the despair."

"You are a monster." Loathing etched his face, the sharp frown embedded in his skin.

Sera considered his accusation. It had some merit after all. Nodding thoughtfully, she said, "Yes, I suppose I am."

When Jinn tried again to slither out of her grasp, she let him go. But he said nothing else, just lay there on the floor gasping out his life, and so she slowly stood up and gave a heavy theatrical sigh. He was really rather a bore.

Scratching absentmindedly at her palm, she blinked down at her hands, only to realize that they were still encrusted with Jinn's blood. She knew that her soiled tunic would be easy to change but stained skin was another matter. She began to scour her fingertips, scratching flakes of red-brown refuse from her knuckles, removing evidence from beneath her nails. She had always been fastidious and now was no time to stop. Besides, she couldn't go back to the Council with dried gore spotting her fingers. There might be questions.

"Although Sidious is so much more of a monster than I can ever be." There was one stubborn smear of brown that remained in the crease of skin between thumb and forefinger and she scrubbed more vigorously at it. "He thinks he's going to kill me. That I'm expendable."

She halted, looking off into the distance and gave a sharp snort, thoroughly amused at the thought. "He's in for a bit of a shock."

"Sidious…."

One last scrape of skin and the clotted blood came free. Inspecting her fingers for telltale signs of her fight with the so-called great Qui-Gon Jinn, she was pleased to see that there were none. She had scrubbed them all away. She looked down from her handiwork to see Jinn watching her. "Ah, yes, Sidious. He thinks I'm afraid of him. Oh, I cower and cringe and play the fool but it's all part of the game you see. He likes those he thinks are to be of use to him to be servile."

Another bark of laughter and she began to pace. "It's certainly lulled him into underestimating me."

She stopped, a smile as cold as the space beyond the galaxy's rim frosting her mouth. "Let's just say that your old Master, Dooku, and I have an alternate plan. The Jedi could be so much more than mere peacekeepers. We have the power. It is time that we used it."

"That is a lie. My Master would never..." Qui-Gon blinked up in shock, struggling to rise but falling back as she pressed one boot onto his chest in warning.

"Oh, how very mistaken you are. He's behind the Separatists, of course." As she spoke, she was leaning in, adding her weight to the pressure of a boot heel digging into injured flesh, enjoying the grimace of crippling pain in his eyes. Then abruptly, she spun away, pacing once more in the dank cell. "Dooku and I want the same thing. Jedi should be ruling the Republic, not taking orders. Rulers, not slaves to some stupid whim of the Senate."

A few gulps of air later, he rasped, "Senate... Council..."

"The Senate are filled with nerfs being led to the slaughter by Sidious. And the Council. Those pandering fools. You must be joking." Her shoulders were shaking with laughter and it took a few moments for her to regain her composure. "Really, Qui-Gon, you are quite amusing."

Her hand fluttered upward, pointing vaguely toward the Council Chamber high above. "Veendo and Nunb are useful enough but they are easily manipulated." And then she stopped, frowning a bit, her dark eyes narrowed and hostile. "Sle'fey has been harder to read, I must admit, but he supports me in the important things. Xacor is too busy playing the mighty hunter to give me any problems. And the rest are idiots and of little concern. Besides, they have no idea what is going on at the moment." Shrugging away her concerns, she said lightly, "I've turned off the monitoring devices and there is no other means of knowing."

"Sera...," he breathed urgently.

Squatting down, she began to smooth down his matted sweat-soaked hair, an almost motherly touch. "You seem to be fading fast, my old friend. Shall I help you along?"

His face was bone-white and she could see the blood pulsing weakly at his throat. But he had enough energy to catch her hand, stilling it. A paper-thin whisper hurried out. "Sera, I need to know..."

This was the very thing she had dreamed of. So many years waiting for this moment that she flushed hot with the joyous burn of her victory. Soon, soon everything she had ever wanted would be hers for the taking. "Very well. Ask your question but be quick. I grow impatient and I have business upstairs."

"Sidious...do you know?" His dark eyes were begging for information.

She snickered at his simple-minded foolishness. Even now, at the end of his life, he was still so innocent and trusting. He would never have discovered the identity of the Sith Lord nor had he found the truth would he have believed it. But she knew. Oh, she knew. "Of course. He may be good at concealment but I have my own sources. I have been waiting for the right time to act. A few more days, I think."

"Tell me, who... is..."

But she was no longer paying attention to the fool dying on the duracreet floor. She had been so immersed in the twisted pain-pleasure of Jinn's impending doom that she all but ignored the charcoal tendrils of dark Force energy signaling that all was not well. But now she knew.

Danger, danger was coming and soon.

She stood up abruptly, almost tripping on Jinn's outstretched hand, and reached for her saber. Peering out into the darkness beyond the cell, into the dank recesses of the Temple basement, she could not see any movement. But in the black pit outside the entrance, there was a small sound, almost a whoosh as if a door had opened and slid closed and footsteps. Whoever it was, was running fast and coming closer by the moment.

Hissing down at the rsshak trash at her feet, Sera spat out, "Jinn, if you say anything, anything at all, I'll kill the fool. No matter who it is. I swear I will. Do you understand?"

Not waiting for a reply, she stepped back, giving herself room to maneuver, slipping into ready stance, gathering up the searing energies of the Force to fight, to dominate, to kill if necessary.

She would not allow failure. She would rule the Galaxy as she had been born to do. And no one would stop her.

No one.


	52. Chapter 26: Conversations Part 2

FYI - I'd written quite a bit of this story already but I'm coming close to the end of what I've written so far. Since I'm a very, very slow writer, I'm going to be posting at a slower rate so that you won't be waiting forever for the next post.

**Chapter 26 - Conversations with the Living and the Dead**

**Part 2**

_Hurry... hurry... _

The sharp slap of boot-hide on duracreet echoed in the stairwell, the noise ricocheting like blaster fire in the tiny space. Harsh breathing, too, whistled out of his throat as the effort to fly down the stairs began to take its toll. And from high above, Atel's frantic calls mingled and tumbled and pushed into a frenzied cacophony of sound.

It did little to slow Obi-Wan down. Ignoring all but his heart's imperative, he continued to jump from landing to landing in a furious effort to reach his Master before it was too late. He could not think about what was happening above him in the treacherous Council Chamber or the changes that the Jedi Order was about to undergo or even what his faithless Padawan might do once she found out the truth.

He could only think of the now and rescuing Qui-Gon.

Pushing ever faster, at last, there was one final platform and he had reached bottom. Shoving past the scarred door, he began to run frantically toward the lighted cell at the end of the hall. The length of tiled floor and dark cages of Jedi justice took on a surreal air as he scrambled past but he shook his head to clear the disturbing thoughts from his mind. He needed to be focused if he had any chance of saving his Master.

Ahead, in the muted glow of that hated prison trap, that cell that had held only terror and toxin and death, on the duracreet floor he could just make out a body in blue tunics, a head of brown-grey hair and one outstretched hand. He... Qui-Gon was lying on the floor, unmoving.

Obi-Wan did not have enough air to breathe out his fear and his brain was beginning to howl denial but he kept going. He kept on going.

As he got closer, all desperation and heartsick grief, he could see that abomination of a Jedi, Tharten, moving into view, gesturing towards the door, looking down and speaking to the man on the floor.

It was only then that he realized, Force help him, that she was talking to Qui-Gon. His heart began to beat again, blazing joy and relief in the knowledge that his Master was not dead, that he was still alive.

He wasn't too late.

Obi-Wan shook off the distraction. Much as he wanted to revel in the knowledge, there was a battle still to be won and he needed to gather his strength and stay focused if he was going to help Qui-Gon. For the briefest of moments, he slowed down, pulling himself together and then sped up again, more determined than ever to reach his Master and get him to the Healers before it was too late.

He saw Tharten look up, her head bobbing about as she tried to peer into the darkness. He knew she could not see him as yet; Obi-Wan was still in shadow. But sensing him in the Force was another matter. As she flowed into ready stance, it was clear that she was expecting trouble.

He would be just the one to give it to her.

His lightsaber humming discordant saber-song, Obi-Wan sprinted into the room, stopping a few centimeters from Qui-Gon. His Master looked terrible, bone-white, the stuttering rasps of pain speaking more clearly than words how badly he had been injured.

That Obi-Wan wanted to drop to his knees and help was an understatement of galactic proportions but he knew that Tharten's capture must come first - above his own desires to save Qui-Gon. He kept going, past the chilling spectacle of his dying Master, and stopped a meter or so from his quarry.

Tharten was standing there, beige tunic askew and smeared with blood, her crabbed mouth open in shock, her saber loose in her hands. She was blinking at him, a myriad of emotions passing over that corrupt face of hers; denial, domination, greed and, for a moment, an impossible touch of lust burnished into her eyes before she settled into brittle pity.

Stumbling backwards in order to avoid the heat of his blade, she spread her hands wide in a gesture of surrender and smiled tentatively, artificial joy and concern in her face. "Obi-Wan, you've arrived just in time. I tried to stop him but he was too fast." She stepped to one side, her dark eyes flicking between the saber and his face, trying to move surreptitiously away from the danger. "He's suicidal."

"Liar." The word seemed to vomit up from the roiling fire-pit of fury that bubbled just beneath Obi-Wan's heart.

His blade wobbled dangerously toward her throat for a moment before he forced himself to ease back. He had to remain calm. He was still a Jedi Knight and sworn to justice but the driving temptation to plunge the saber into that lying rsshak and end her miserable life was almost overwhelming.

Tharten put one hand to her chest, her gestures full of theater; her concern was a facade sliding between trickery and contempt. And lies upon lies, the vulnerable catch in her voice only angered him more. "Obi-Wan, you must believe me. I came down here to see if I could help him but he lunged at me. Stole my boot knife and plunged it into his chest. So fast. I couldn't stop him."

He almost laughed at her; the story she was spinning was just too absurd. But his blade remained, pointing straight at her heart. "You are under arrest for the attempted murder of Qui-Gon Jinn. I want your saber, Tharten. Give it to me willingly and we'll see what we can do to shorten your sentence."

With each word, her face grew more and more thunderous, fury painting her skin in splotches of red and vicious shadow. Eyes narrowing into slits, she drew herself up, haughty and contemptuous, puffing out like some kind of absurd predator. "Have you gone completely mad? You can't talk to me that way. I am the head of the Jedi Council and your superior."

It took every gram of strength he had not to gut her where she stood. "Your saber or I'll take it."

"I'll have you dismissed from the Jedi Order for this outrage." Spitting out her scorn, she moved back and stood there, glaring at him, daring him to take her weapon. The Force itself seemed to twist around her, its brilliant light shredding into smoky veils of fury, all black decay and corruption.

She was poison, wrapped up in the illusion of offended virtue.

He did not have time for this - Qui-Gon did not have the time - and it made him reckless. "I doubt it. We know all about your dealings with Sidious."

She went absolutely still with shock, her black eyes glaring out behind hooded lids, her mouth gaping open. One slight tilt of her head upward as if looking through the layers of duracreet flooring to the Council Chamber of the Jedi Order high above their heads and then she blinked at him and sent him an unsure smile.

With the lightest trace of mild curiosity in her voice, she said, "Sidious? Who is that?"

"Don't even try." That she would think him simple enough to swallow her lies only made him more furious.

Pushing down his anger, he ground out, "Did you think that you could keep it a secret forever? Sle'fey and the rest of them know all about you and your plans for galactic domination." Scowling at her, he watched as she methodically retreated from his blade, taking small steps to avoid the danger, seeking escape. But when she reached the far wall, he knew she was trapped. There was nowhere else to go but through him.

"Surrender your saber, Tharten and I'll let you live."

Snorting once, Tharten glanced down at the blade handle in her grip. The smirk that blossomed on her face was full of contempt, and frowning straight at Obi-Wan, she growled, "Come and get it then, foolish boy. As if you could. You are nothing but a ..."

Obi-Wan felt the Force shift, shrilling of danger and fury and death, a gift of a moment's foreknowledge.

Flashing out into brilliant cobalt fire, spilling ozone and discordant humming into the air, Tharten's lightsaber stabbed quickly toward him but he was already moving. The Force was with him.

Backpedaling quickly, he tried to get clear enough that he could disarm her. They needed to know who Sidious was, and if he killed her, much as he wanted to do so, it would be disastrous. But she seemed desperate to destroy him and escape at any cost.

As she slashed down toward his legs, he vaulted up onto the slab of seating and then flipping past her, catching at her blade just as she tried to skewer him. With a quick twist, she was the one in control, pushing his saber lower and lower, scraping it onto the floor. Ozone and dust clouded upward and small chips of duracreet peppered the air. He choked for a moment, his eyes watering and he made a hasty retreat. He heard the sound of her contempt as he jockeyed for position.

He could feel her in the Force, a red-black bubble of corruption, a stain in the light. It tainted him somehow that he could be in the same room with someone so filled with shadow. But he shivered off the sensation. Now was not the time for such things.

Blinking rapidly, as his vision cleared, he saw her standing there, dark blade tearing down toward him again and he shoved it back. Close to his, her face was a death-mask of frenzied hatred, all pulled skin and stark bone. But she was smiling, too, her smirk full of utter confidence.

"Come on, Kenobi. Is this the best you can do?" She mocked and lunged forward.

He jerked out of the way and almost tripped over his Master, lying there so still on the floor. She only laughed at his clumsiness. "Oafy-Wan, mind your step. We wouldn't want you hurting the old fool. Or your pretty face."

Ignoring the taunt, he swung his blade toward her right side, hoping to catch her saber at the hilt and destroying it but she danced away, impossibly fast. The cobalt sword was almost strobing in the dim cell, a fan of deadly light that seared past him lightning-quick. As she retreated, she scored a thin line across his arm, quicksilver fire.

It hurt like hell but he shunted aside the pain. He could not afford the distraction. Besides, it had been too close.

Breathing hard, he brought his saber back up into ready position. He knew he was at a disadvantage. Although he had been a field agent for many years, he was still fighting off the residual effects of the cell and beyond that, in his heart of hearts, he was worried about Qui-Gon. He could not afford _that_ distraction either.

Tharten just tskked softly and shook her head, "My foolish Obi-Wan. Always doing things the hard way. Why don't you accept that I will win in the end?"

Keeping his saber high to fend off an attack, he looked around the room to see if there was something he could use against her but there was nothing except his Master at his feet, and on the floor, one smoldering square of fabric the color of his own tunic. Apparently, she had sliced through more than just skin.

"I will soon have the galaxy at my feet." She began to pace, hacking at the air with her saber, all careless gesture or so it would seem. In reality, she was slowly inching toward the exit.

He could not let her get away. He half-stepped toward her, blocking her escape. "You will never succeed."

"It is a golden opportunity for you, Obi-Wan. Join me. Learn about true power and the pleasure of using it as it was meant to be used." She sent him a brilliant smile, and cocked her head, waiting for his reply.

It was not long in coming. "Never, I..."

Before he could finish what he was going to say, she flung out one hand, sending a crashing wave of Force energy toward him, thrusting him aside. She began to scramble past him. As he strove to regain his footing, he grabbed onto her tunic and pulled her back.

She screeched at him, trying to jerk free. In an instant, her saber was there again, swinging high to meet his blade and then spiraling it down to jab at his legs. He still had a fist-full of cloth and it was dragging her off-center but with one powerful movement, she wrested free.

What she had forgotten in her haste to leave was that Qui-Gon was not dead, not just yet. As her foot flashed past his outstretched hand, he caught at her boot and pulled. It was not much, but it was enough. She spun awkwardly, collapsing into a pile of beige tunic and brown robes.

In a flash, Obi-Wan was there again, but she just scurried away, robes catching at her feet, her eyes black with hate. Impatiently shrugging off her cloak, she scrambled up, slashing and growling hoarsely as she rose, trying to destroy him. He backpedaled away but she stabbed at him again and the battle was on, hacking, jabbing, two enemies locked in a deadly duel that would only have one outcome - death.

In that one explosive moment, in the midst of it all, Atel pelted into the room.

"Master, stop. Don't..." His Padawan's voice was shrilled desperation. The clatter of her boots told him that she had slowed, turning a run into a careful walk towards him, edging close.

He wanted to warn her away but he knew she would never listen. Even if she had believed him and wanted to help, it was too dangerous for her in the enclosed space. Besides, he dare not give Tharten the gift of a moment's inattention.

However, there was one thing she could do.

"Padawan, help him." He nodded to one side, indicating the still form sprawled on the duracreet floor.

The sound of boot heels stopped abruptly. He knew then that Atel was finally aware of his Master's condition, that she was taking in Qui-Gon's pallid skin and the splattered blood and the unsettling harsh rattle in his throat.

Her shock reverberated in the Force, swirling, shadowy discord, a jumble of hesitation and loss. But it was her voice, so quiet, that tore at his heart, "Master?"

"Help him," he repeated desperately. He could not do anything for Qui-Gon as long as Tharten was free and able to attack. But if Atel could just trust his judgment for one moment, it might be enough. He prayed that she would make the right choice.

Signaling that she was willing to talk, Tharten stepped back and lowered her saber, sending Obi-Wan a sly grin. It was clear that she thought Atel could not see her; Obi-Wan blocked her view. As her smirk grew into a brilliant smile, she gave him a wink, and then looking past his shoulder, cried out, "Padawan, don't listen to him. Your Master is ill. I tried to stop Jinn from stabbing himself and Obi-Wan attacked me. I need your help."

As Obi-Wan drew back in disgust, Tharten began to move her blade back and forth, sweeping across the air in luminous cobalt light, creating patterns of beauty and death.

Escape was her goal, of course, but he could not allow it. In the end, justice must be served. It was the Jedi way and his.

Through the Force, he could feel Atel wavering, trying to make a decision. It hurt him more than he expected - to think that she was trying to decide if he was truly insane or if Tharten was lying. She should have known the answer immediately. What had gone so wrong that she couldn't trust him? But there was no time now for remorse or recriminations.

There was only time to say, "Atel, please." He hoped that she would understand.

"Yes, Master." Her hesitant whisper was all he needed.

From out of the corner of his eye, he could see her kneeling down and speaking softly to Qui-Gon. The low rumble of reply was too quiet to hear but at least Obi-Wan could take finally take a deep breath and release the terror that had been holding his heart captive. His Master was still alive and Atel would do what she could until the Healers arrived - if they ever did.

Laughing in a kind of giddy triumph, Tharten swept her saber up, "She can't help him. He's bleeding to death and even the Force is not enough to stop that. You fool, he is doomed and you with him."

With that, her blade became a ruinous band of light, jabbing toward him, and for the next few moments, he was on the defensive and fighting for his life. As the seconds wore on, he could feel the Force growing stronger even as the last effects of the cell tortures dissipated but he was getting tired. He needed to end this and quickly.

He flipped over, kicking at the ceiling and pushed down toward her, cutting through the air and into Tharten's side. She screeched in pain but it was not debilitating, merely a superficial wound. She was after him with renewed vigor.

So quick were Tharten's attacks that he did not have time to think about what Atel was doing. But as he slid past, for one brief moment, he could see her leaning down, her hand flat against his Master's forehead. She was concentrating hard; the deep frown seemed to bisect her skin. Her eyes were closed tight. Then he moved again and her face was hidden from view as he slashed and parried and tried to force the Councilor's surrender.

With every heartbeat, he was gathering strength, pushing Tharten back and back and she gave way until they were against the far wall of the cell. The Force was moving with him, the shadowed, diseased flow from Tharten counterbalanced by his clean grounding in the lightside. Sinking into the brilliant currents, letting go of worry and the fear for Qui-Gon and whether the Jedi would survive this latest assault or his own fate, he flowed into the mysteries of that radiant energy. He was dancing in the Force's light.

When the discordant ozone noise of a third lightsaber blade started humming loudly behind him, he was taken completely by surprise.

Tharten looked past him, and she began to laugh, sending shivers up his back but he dare not turn around. He dare not turn but it was already too late and so he did.

Glancing over his shoulder, he choked on the horror of it, at the betrayal of everything he had ever believed.

He started to stumble back, shouting at his Padawan. The woman he trusted with his life, the woman to whom he had entrusted the life of the man who meant so much to him and she had betrayed him. She had betrayed them both.

Hunched over his Master, Atel had already taken her saber and plunged it deep into Qui-Gon's belly. A bloody mist of iron-tanged gore blossomed outward, enveloping them both, coating her and his dying Master in brown slime. She was still frowning, and she kept the lightsaber steady and straight, but it was an abomination.

Qui-Gon must have already been unconscious because there was no scream of agony, no pain-filled bubbling protest that must surely come from such an attack.

Obi-Wan had no time to think of that. He acted, instead, on instinct. He had nothing left to lose.

Gathering a fistful of Force energy, he launched it straight at his wayward apprentice. The ripples of it tore across the cell like a dark meteor, crashing into his Learner and flinging her backward high up into the air. As she hit the corner where ceiling met wall, she let out a half-grunt and crumbled to the ground unmoving - like some broken doll. Beside her was the hilt of her lightsaber, still clanging slightly as it rolled away, useless.

Then Obi-Wan felt it, the agony as a saber plunged deep into his flesh.

His shoulder was on fire as Tharten's sword pierced through to the bone and out the back. The monster brayed with laughter, her eyes filled with triumph as she pulled the sword free. He tried to gasp out a protest but the burning went straight through to the depths of his heart, searing meat and bone and he could not breathe. He could not breathe. His body spasmed in torment.

But he was still acting on instinct.

Obi-Wan jerked back, away from her, his blade coming up. Tharten had left herself open in that last thrust, and without thought, he sliced through her, bone and flesh bubbling in fiery splendor, bits of skin and muscle and guts exploding away from the heat.

She shrieked then, looking down unbelieving at the ruination of her chest, and then reaching for him with the determination of the damned. Her body started to collapse inward and she crumbled to the floor, still screaming obscenities and cursing his name, all the while trying to push her entrails back inside her skin.

Her searing hatred spread outward into the Force. Almost a living thing, it seemed to react, fracturing into a great icy slush of darkness and disease, great debris-filled waves of corruption coating everything in filth. Roiling in obscenity, the once clear currents of the Force were choked with contempt and hatred and fear and pain. The Darkside clouded everything.

Reeling away from the contamination in the Force, Obi-Wan hobbled a step back from the carnage, still gulping air in vain attempt to quell the agony of his shoulder. He could not sense anything beyond the shadows, not the life energy of his Padawan or whether his Master still lived after all that had been done to him.

As he stood there swaying in pain and regret, he looked down to see Qui-Gon covered in a fine sheen of brown blood, the charred mess of his gut still sizzling from the heat. But there was no sign of life, no lift of chest, no movement beyond a tendril of smoke rising from the wound. Nothing.

He had been too late after all. Force help him, he had been too late.

Closing his eyes, he fought back the grief that threatened to overwhelm him. He would mourn later. Later. Now was not the time to give into sorrow, not the time to...

He still had one last duty to perform, one last way to honor Qui-Gon's sacrifice.

Twisting away, he stumbled back to Tharten and knelt beside her. The jostling movement was sending shudders of pain down his fingertips and radiating out into his chest but he forced himself to ignore it and focus.

Tharten was breathing up blood, a frothy mixture of agony and hatred. Glazing over, her eyes were narrowed and black as death and with each lift of her ruined chest, she coughed up more globules of bright-red muck. But she still had enough strength to spit in his face.

He wiped the mess off with his good hand, staring down at her. "Who is Sidious?"

The laugh that followed turned into another hacking cough and her face grimaced in pain. Rasping out fury, she growled, "Go to hell, Kenobi."

He knew he didn't have much time and it was a violation of every covenant of the Jedi but he had to know. A Mind-trick would not work here, no soft persuasion to a weak-minded lost soul but a hard, thrusting punch of Force coercion. Mind-rape. It would be hard and filthy and an abomination to probe into her contaminated spirit and it would hurt like hellfire but he would do it if she did not cooperate. This was too important. It could mean the death of the Jedi Order and thousands of innocents if he did not try.

Giving her one last chance, he said, "Tell me, or I'll go in and force the information from you. And I won't be gentle."

She snorted, then shivered with pain as more bright blood seeped through her fingers. She was growing weaker by the moment. "Kenobi the moralist? I murdered your Master and still you don't have the guts to take what you want. Weak fool. I'm just sorry I didn't kill you when I had the chance."

So be it.

He drew back, taking a deep breath, ignoring the fire flare of pain across his back as the melted skin in his shoulder tore again. Pushing away the agony and the despair, he centered himself and reached out to touch her through the still polluted shadows of the Force.

Tharten arched back, shaking her head back and forth, trying to keep him away by screaming obscenities at him. But he ignored her protests. He was far stronger that she would ever be and he needed to do this for Qui-Gon's sake.

Grabbing her head between his hands, he sent a Force suggestion down into her thoughts, asking for permission to enter. Even in the frantic touch of mind-to-mind contact, she shrieked and vomited hatred at him.

He pushed past her barriers and punched into the centers of her mind. There was a maelstrom of fear and shuddering torment that was almost overwhelming but beneath it all was her driving need to keep him from learning the Sith's true identity.

He sent a sharp probe of energy jabbing into the pain centers of her mind. There he was able to imprint his will on hers, forcing her to accept his control. She could not fight back; he was too powerful and she too caught up in her own agony to resist.

It was corruption of the worst sort and nothing a Jedi would do but he had to know.

As he pulled back into the reality of the cell, he felt as if his spirit had been dragged through the fetid waste of a thousand worlds and would never be clean again. But he ignored the taint and the darkness.

Waving one hand across her eyes, he demanded, "Tell me now, Sera. Who is Sidious?"

Tharten was still wheezing blood and curses at him and her throat was raw from screaming when he had forced himself into her mind. Still she fought him. With all the strength left in her, she sputtered out, "I wo... I... can.. not... I..." And as Sera Tharten shrieked out the last of her hatred, she said, "Palpatine..."

And she was dead.

Too numb to react to the realization that the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic was the Sith Lord, he tilted his head upward, glaring at the ceiling. In his mind's eye, he could see through the layers of Temple duracreet, through the great halls and winding staircases, up the shaft of broken turbolifts and into the dusty hall of Council Chambers. He knew that they were watching him, Sle'fey and Veendo and Nunb and Xacor and all the others. He supposed that there was satisfaction there in the lofty Council and a kind of vindication but he couldn't seem to care.

All he could do was stare up and wonder if they understood any of it.

He slumped back, ignoring the fierce agony of muscle and bones, and sat quietly for a moment. He had done what was needed but at what cost. Qui-Gon was gutted and lying there lifeless. Atel had betrayed him as had most of the Jedi Council and for what - to learn the name of a Sith Lord?

In that moment, it didn't seem worth the price.

Blinking in silence, unable to move, he sat there numb. He couldn't even care when a pair of Healers finally came trundling into the room, a hoverbed floating behind them. They were too late and it didn't matter any more.

It didn't matter.

One of them knelt down by Qui-Gon and started pushing needles under his skin, linking up bags of fluid, looking at eyes and mouth and burned gut. Obi-Wan recognized the man. Leabe was his name, and he was competent enough but not enough to bring back the dead. Once you had traveled into the Force, there was no way to return. Everyone knew that.

The second Healer knelt down to see if Tharten was still alive and just shook his head. Then he came over to Obi-Wan, pulling the ruined tunic off his shoulder and slapping bacta on his wound. The man started asking absurd questions. "How severely are you injured? Can you walk back to the ward or do we need another hoverbed?"

Obi-Wan just shook him off and closed his eyes for a moment. He was shutting down, pushing aside the grief, letting the numbness wash over him. It was easier than giving in to the pain. There would be time enough later to grieve for Qui-Gon Jinn.

Obi-Wan turned his head and stared at his now-awake apprentice. She was sitting there, gazing at him with confusion and impossible hurt in her eyes. At this moment, he could not even feel enough to hate her. Perhaps later, when it wore off and he could think again, he would make her pay for her betrayal but not now.

As the Healer poked and prodded him, Obi-Wan said quietly, "She murdered him. Murdered Qui-Gon. My devoted Learner was supposed to save him but instead she shoved her saber into his gut and roasted what was left of him. I trusted her, you see, and she turned on me. She killed him without any remorse. How could she do that? I trusted her."

As Atel looked at Obi-Wan with horror, Leabe, still working on Qui-Gon's dead body, spoke up. It was clear that the Healer was confused. "You are quite mistaken. She saved his life. He's in stasis right now. He was able to slow down his autonomic system to the point of almost perfect suspension. He's breathing but only just."

"But..." Obi-Wan could not comprehend what the man was babbling about. Qui-Gon was dead. He was starting to get angry. Why was the Healer spewing lies about his Master? "But she… he was bleeding to death from a knife wound and she gutted him with her saber."

"I don't have time to give you the complete explanation. We have to get him into surgery and then into a bacta tank when he's strong enough. Neil'don, help me with the hoverbed, and then call ahead and make sure they are ready for us. We'll need to get him to the ward as quickly as we can. And we'll send someone back down for you."

Obi-Wan kept blinking at the fool. Couldn't he feel the death? The Force was full of it, great shards of ice and contamination. His own spirit was slick with the poison of Tharten's hatred and foul black blood.

As the Healers began to float Qui-Gon's body out into the darkened hallway, Leabe called back, "She stopped his bleeding with her saber. It's a rather crude method but it worked. I think you owe her an apology."

With that, they were alone.

Atel gazed at him for a moment, then buried her head in her hands and began to cry.


	53. Chapter 27: Walking wounded

**Chapter 27: Walking Wounded**

The tears did not last long. Atel's shaking hands still covered her eyes - a futile attempt at hiding, she knew, but she didn't have the strength to face Obi-Wan just yet. The stunning shock of his repudiation was as chill as the cold, wet skin beneath her fingertips.

It has been minutes, hours, days since he claimed her guilty of murder. Or was it only moments ago? She wasn't sure. In the jumble of unreality that was the dank cell and Tharten's corpse and her Master's rejection, she could be certain of nothing but pain. The Force was full of it, the red-glow of agony quenched, of hopes lost in brown slime, great chunks of frozen smoke and pollution filling the usually clear currents of that great energy field. It sickened her, this dark obscenity, just as his words had sickened her with his effortless denunciation of her struggle to save Master Jinn.

Yet his accusation had been delivered in such a casual way, as if he were discussing the flavors of tea or talking about the latest hovercraft specifications, not some vast black-hole condemnation of treachery and ruin.

Squeezing her eyes shut tight against fingers still damp with grief, she gave out a shuddering breath and tried to center herself, to drive away the chaotic confusion and regain her balance, to act like a Jedi - as she would have under ordinary circumstances. But these were anything but ordinary.

It hurt to breath. It hurt to think. It hurt to wonder what would happen when she looked into his eyes at last and saw the certainty there that he believed her capable of trying to murder someone he loved. She knew it was foolish. She had always been taught to face her fears. But for just a little while longer, she wanted to hide behind trembling hands, to avoid seeing the flush of hatred in his face. Just a little while longer.

But the Force was reminding her of duty and honor and things yet to be done. Wiping away the last of the tears, Atel gathered her strength and looked over at her Master.

Obi-Wan was sitting there, a meter or so away, staring up at the ceiling. An unblinking glare, it was almost as if he could see through the layers of duracreet into the very sky over their heads. He didn't move. A pale statue, he seemed lifeless - except for the slight rise and fall of his chest, and the glimmer of something unbearable in his eyes.

She wanted to call out to him, to remind him that she was still there, still his Padawan and that she would forgive him anything if only he would look at her with trust again. But it was a fool's wish. They had said too much, done too much and they could never go back to the way it was just a few days ago.

It hurt to breathe. The stone-weight of that knowledge pressed into her chest, freezing the very blood in her heart.

How had it come to this? When had they lost their connection, their trust in each other and in the Force? When had her failure to understand become his failure to see her as she was, someone trying desperately to do what she thought was right and yet still keep his respect and love? Or had he seen her as nothing more than a liability? All those years. Had their life together been nothing?

Trying to shake off the absurd desire to hide again, Atel realized that she was being selfish and very much a fool. He had been hurt, he was still hurt, and she needed to stop this and act like the Jedi she was. She had to help him even if it was for the last time.

"Obi-Wan, do you need...?" Her hoarse question trailed off into silence.

Atel had expected him to react somehow, even if only to reprimand her insolence at the familiarity. Instead, he just sat there, silent and still, staring at the ceiling, ignoring her. She glanced up but saw nothing except one line of water stain that had spidered its way across the duracreet. There was nothing to warrant such attention.

Perhaps he was going insane after all. With the streaming trails of death-shadow and the crimson horror of mind torture still profaning the Force, it was almost impossible to find his light in the twisted echoes of what had happened here.

Yet someone needed to repair what had been damaged between them by his careless, cutting words. With his continuing silence, it looked like that someone was her.

As she twisted her body to look at him more clearly, for a moment, the muscles on one side of her torso jerked abruptly, spasms of pain shooting through her. It hurt to breath and it was more than just grief tugging at her spirit. Atel felt as if a bantha had stepped on her chest, crushing her and she was left with only the memory of life.

She tried to ignore the pain; it was nothing but bruises, damage from getting Force-pushed into walls - twice. The flash-memory of his hand flinging her aside like so much trash sent a quick pulse of anger slithering down her chest, adding to the burn but she shoved that emotion aside. Now was not the time. Perhaps later, she would deal with it all, when she was alone and it had finally been settled between them.

Besides, Obi-Wan's injury was far greater than any of hers and he would need further medical attention soon. A couple of bacta patches, even with a strong painkiller, could not keep a lightsaber wound's problems at bay forever.

Atel started again, "Do you need help to get to the Healers? Would you like me to...?"

"They are watching us still." Quiet, flat words but the rage in Obi-Wan's voice was undeniable.

Drawing back, she glanced upward for a moment. There was nothing there in the ceiling but a thin stain and duracreet. "Who is watching us?"

"Don't you know? Can't you sense them?" The way he said it, so intensely, with such passion and anger, sent chills skittering across her flesh.

When he said nothing else, just kept ignoring her, she tried again to capture his attention, "I don't sense anything. Who are you talking about?"

"I told you in the turbolift." With an annoyed growl, he angled around to look at her. His eyes were hard grey and full of some bleak thing that remained unspoken. The frown she saw there seemed to etch his face into white bone and fury. "Did you hear nothing of what I said? Did you think that I was merely...?" He broke off and looked away, down towards his clenched hands. Even from where she sat, she could see the tension in the pull of muscles against flesh.

For a moment, the grief in his voice was unbearable. He murmured quietly, half to himself, "That's right. If I remember correctly, you thought I was insane. Perhaps I was." Then glaring at her, he dove back into rage. "Crawl back to the Council, then. I wasn't lying, I wasn't insane. But you seem to find it impossible to believe anything I say."

"Obi-Wan, no, I don't...." Her frantic objection went unheard.

Darkness seemed to swirl around him, smears of smoke and outrage, and underneath it all, such an aching despair.

With a shaking, angry voice, he spat out, "Go back to your High Council, those wisest of the wise Masters of the Jedi Order. Find just how much the rsshak slime manipulated both of us. Playing us like we were nothing but Dejarik pawns, wriggling out our lives on the razor wire of endless missions. Deception and cruelty and bloody meat for their games. And all the while, we go where we are told and when we are told and give away everything that we are. For what, Atel, for what?"

Blinking rapidly, his eyes smoky with grief, Obi-Wan abruptly curled inward. One hand splayed across his chest, the other scrubbing at his face. He looked exhausted. It seemed all the anger and adrenalin of the last few hours had finally drained away.

"May they burn in hell for what they demanded of me and may I burn with them for what I had done...."

She could barely hear Obi-Wan's whisper. But she knew that this was not good. Anger was not the only way to the Dark; despair and grief and even shame could be powerful conduits as well.

Atel didn't know what to say. He had always been the strong one, wise and calm, the epitome of a Master - a Jedi without weakness, someone to learn from, someone to admire, someone to follow into hell and back and remain unscathed - until this moment.

The last of her childhood finally fell away. Now, she would have to be the one to help him regain what he had lost. No matter that he had accused her of murder only minutes ago, no matter that he had rejected the Jedi and flung her aside, he needed her and now that they both knew the truth, she would move on.

Almost too weary to get up, nevertheless, she managed to struggle to her feet, wincing as she did, and hobbled over towards Obi-Wan. Hesitating for a moment, she leaned down and brushed one tentative hand across his uninjured shoulder.

She had meant only to comfort. But instead he reacted as if she had struck him, jerking out of her reach with a harsh, "Don't."

"Let me help you." Blinking back surprise, she stood there for a moment, waiting for him to realize that she wasn't attacking him.

Instead he just shuddered and pulled himself into a tight knot of arms and legs. "Don't touch me. I'm not...."

Waiting in vain for him to finish explaining what he was not, when it was clear that he would say nothing else, she knelt down beside him, keeping a careful distance, and urged gently, "Not what?"

Obi-Wan seemed to be at the centerpoint in a riptide of dark emotions, the Force polluted with the slushy chaotic remnants of his loathing and fury and shame. She waited for him to let go of whatever demons were tormenting him but instead, he sunk deeper into self-hatred.

Stonily glancing up at the ceiling for a moment, Obi-Wan's gaze slid away from her concern. "How can you be so calm after what I did to you? After I hurt you? Accused you of killing Qui-Gon when all you were doing was trying to save him?"

Atel pushed back a sharp flash of remembrance: the blossoming pain as she hit the wall and slid down, Obi-Wan's accusations of murder, her own betrayal at his hands. But she shook it off. There would be time enough to deal with this after she got him to the Healers and he could come to terms with it all.

"We can talk about this later, when you've recovered from your ordeal." But when he just shot her an unbelieving look, she said, "You need to let it go, Obi-Wan. You know this. You were the one who taught me, remember."

Sarcastic, he spat out, "Did I teach you how to use the Force to torture someone? Rape their minds?" He glared at her, his eyes hard as durasteel. "Did you hear her screams? Such agony when I forced myself into her head, her fighting me all the way?"

His one hand scoured across his face as if to remove the tainted flesh from beneath his palm. "I could feel her pain, knew, without doubt, that every nerve in her body was on fire, her heart wildly beating as she tried to break free of the torment and yet I kept... I kept doing it." He shook his head, closing his eyes against the memories, "How can I let it go when a Jedi would not... would never...?" His words trailed off into silence.

Knowing that he was on the brink of collapse, both physically and mentally, she took his good hand in hers and began to stroke it gently, as she would a small child whose night had been filled with terrors. He glared at her but did not pull away. "Obi-Wan, you are ill. Look at yourself, exhausted, a night of torture. The saber wound in your shoulder needs attention and you need rest."

"Rest." He shook his head, sounding so weary and unhappy that it made her heart clench in sympathy. But he did not move, only looked down to watch her fingers steadily stroking the back of his hand.

She could feel the currents of the Force begin to clear. Obi-Wan was not fighting against her soft touch, and as he sat there, swaying slightly in fatigue, it was almost as if he was beginning to allow the hurt and torment of the last hours to drift away. She knew it would be a long hard climb to remove the taint from his spirit but she would make sure that it came to pass. "Yes, rest. You are only going to make yourself worse with all this. You are ill enough as it is."

"Ill? I suppose I am. Sick enough. Sick of it all. The lies, the betrayal of everything I've believed in. And for what? Lies, all lies." The heat of rebellion was still there in the words but he said it with such weariness that she knew she had won this round.

She wanted to cry again, absurd as it was, but she pushed away the unwanted emotion. She had to take care of Obi-Wan first and then she would have much meditation to do before she could feel free of the dark taint of this day. "Let me call the healers. We'll get that shoulder fixed up, you can rest, and then we'll see what we can do about the mess."

Obi-Wan gave a half-nod, and then closing his eyes, bowed his head in resignation. "I'm leaving the Jedi, you know."

Glad that her Master could not see the heartbreak on her face, she pulled out the comlink and began to open up a channel to the Healers ward. As she looked away, out into the darkness beyond, her vision wavering in liquid grief, she hesitated for just a moment. Then with a murmur too quiet for him to hear, she said gently, "I know."


	54. Chapter 28: Servants of the Force

**Chapter 28 - Servants of the Force**

"Palpatine."

The word dropped like a meteor into the noisy chaos of the Council Chamber, and for a second, the spread of silence was as tangible as shockwaves through superheated air.

Only moments before, the room had been filled with accusation and loud demands for action. Hoarse shouts of denial from Veendo, wet apology stumbling out of Numb's mouth, quick gulps of fear from some of the other Masters - they had all but overwhelmed the quiet backdrop of Xacor's hurried request for a Healer and the blue-tinged buzz of frenzied fighting that raged far below them.

Sle'fey had let the Councilors broil in the heat of furious argument, ignoring their pleas and taunts and obvious plays for power. This day had long been planned, the trap set with Kenobi's unknowing sacrifice, and a few insults from those who had allowed the Jedi Order to come to this were nothing.

Instead he had watched, with heavy heart, the horror of battle between Obi-Wan and that rrshak slime, Tharten. He accepted that he had had a very large part in Obi-Wan's life-and-death struggle and wished that it could have been otherwise. But the survival of the Order must come before the life of one lone Knight.

Or so he believed - until the fateful word. "Palpatine."

Sle'fey just sat there, muzzle open in shock, not really seeing what else was taking place far below them. He did not watch as the Healers trundled an unconscious Jinn out of transmission range; he did not listen to Obi-Wan's desperation and rage; he did not feel the icy darkness that lingered in the currents of the Force nor taste the venom that had been Tharten's final legacy to them all.

Kenobi had done it, found out who was behind the desecration of the heart and spirit of the Jedi. _Palpatine_.

But Sle'fey knew what it really meant - disaster.

The Sith were rising again. They had gotten their claws into the Jedi Order but more importantly, Palpatine, Supreme Chancellor of the Republic and revered throughout the Galaxy, was behind the plot. He was untouchable, virtually invulnerable, and there was nothing he or Xacor or Kenobi or any of the other Jedi could do about it.

Disaster indeed.

It was only a heartbeat later when the collective astonishment of the Council sputtered back into frenzy.

Above the din of desperate inquiries and furious denials, Veendo shouted out his contempt, "Palpatine? A Sith Lord?" One green hand sweeping through the air as if to brush away his fury, he twisted to glare at the Bothan Councilor, "This is outrageous. The Sith have been extinct for a millennium and now we are expected to believe that they have risen again and that the _Supreme_ Chancellor is our deadliest enemy. Absurd."

White fir swirling with disbelief, Sle'fey shot back, "Tharten...."

The Rodian was adamant, his voice growling scorn. "_Master_ Tharten, Sle'fey. She was head of the Jedi Council and your superior. She deserved better than to be gutted like that. Mind raped by that worthless Kenobi. His vicious attack.... "

Frowning at the implication that Sera Tharten was somehow innocent in all this, Sle'fey leaned forward, half-out of his seat as he snarled, "_Master_ Tharten named him Sith Lord, not I." His eyes as hard as durasteel, he pointed one claw at Veendo and said, "Do not think to turn this back into something other than what it is. You and Tharten and your followers have been trying to gut the Jedi Order for years, turning it into a mockery of everything the Jedi once were. It stops now."

The Rodian Councilor just snorted with disbelief. "And how are you going to do that, Sle'fey? By arresting Palpatine? That's impossible and you know it." He thrust himself back in his chair, pulling hastily at his tunic as if by doing so he could rid himself of the absurd idea of capturing the Supreme Chancellor. Then, staring pointedly at the guards flanking the doorway for a moment, he turned his attention back to the other Masters, apparently looking for support.

The chamber quieted and there was more than a few heads nodding at Veendo's words. His smile of triumph was not lost on the Bothan.

"No one is beyond justice." But even as he said it, Sle'fey knew that he was lying, to Veendo, to the rest of the Council - to himself most of all. It was an impossibility and yet he had to think of a way past impossible and make it happen somehow.

Veendo's bulbous eyes gleamed victory as he pressed his advantage. He spat out, "Master Tharten would never align herself with such a creature, not even to further her own position. The Sith were treacherous and cunning by all accounts. She would not be such a fool."

Xacor's tattooed face was tight with outrage as he interrupted Veendo's reinterpretation of what had happened only a few moments before. "And yet she had. By her own admission."

Swiveling around to stare at the Zabrak Master, Veendo's snout tightened, malice-strong. Then he deliberately looked away, sweeping his gaze quickly across the room. He must have liked what he saw.

With a satisfied smile, Veendo began to speak again; each word was clear and sharp as an ice dagger. "Kenobi forced her to speak such lies. He needed some excuse for murdering her and this was the perfect opportunity."

Sle'fey could feel the fur rising behind his neck, a sure sign that he was fast approaching the end of his patience. He knew that he should let Veendo, Nunb and the others prattle on for a while; after all, it was said that information could be more easily won by letting your enemy fall into the fever trap of hurried words and fury than by any debate of cold logic. But he also knew that the time to end this was soon.

As he looked around, trying to think of how to force the dispute into satisfaction and success, his gaze first brushed past and then refocused on the blue-tinged mist of holocam transmission in the center of the room.

The gentle electronic sputter could sometimes soften the edges of harsh reality; its flickering light might hide sharp edges and fine detail but not today. Instead, he could see, with crystal clarity, the gory spill of entrails spattered across the horror of the cell floor, the splotchy lines of purple-dark blood, Master Tharten's sprawled body. Beyond, beside a frowning Padawan Sl'etah, Obi-Wan sat, slightly rocking, his shattered expression stark in the haze.

The rush of bile threatened to overwhelm him. He had betrayed a man who didn't deserve such a fate and he would pay for it later but there was no time for regrets. Kenobi would have to deal with his own darkness. Right now, Sle'fey had other problems.

Forcing down the acid in his throat, he twisted away and glared straight at Veendo. It was time to push back. "You can't blame Obi-Wan for this." His muzzle curled a bit in disgust, the derision in his low growl unambiguous. "She brought it on herself."

Veendo's eyes bulged dark as he grabbed at the edge of his seat. He sounded thoroughly annoyed, "Master Tharten was the head of the Jedi Council. If she was guilty, she should have been tried before us, not gutted like a piece of meat."

If anything, the cold contempt in Sle'fey's voice chilled further. He said flatly, "She was in league with a Sith Lord. For years. What Kenobi did was not murder but justice."

As he looked around to see the rest of the Council staring back at him with confusion or fear or determination to find out the truth, Sle'fey drew in a deep breath and pressed his attack. "I begin to wonder just how much you do know, you and Nunb and your friends on this Council. For all of your bluster, your protests do nothing but make you appear more guilty."

While Veendo sputtered in outrage, Sle'fey shifted slightly, nodding to Xacor. One subtle gesture from the tattooed Master and the guards at the entrance to the chambers straightened, as though readying themselves for arrest or battle. It did not go unnoticed.

Nunb made a gulp of protest and two of the others in Tharten's circle - A'Ala-Tanze of Indoctrination and Holu TaKet of the Espionage group, those who had supported Tharten and her past schemes, began to look decidedly ill at ease. Veendo just radiated fury.

Sle'fey knew that his tenuous hold on the Council was stretched thin but he still had enough Masters on his side to take control of the Order - especially now with Tharten dead.

But even if it had only been himself and Xacor and no one else, still he would have seen this through. He would not let the Order fall into the hands of the Sith - not as long as he drew breath.

Tension began to build in the Force; the slushy ice-morass of darkness was a cold swirl of treachery and lies and he could almost taste Veendo's contempt. There was apprehension there, too. The Rodian was still hiding something for all his protests. Sle'fey needed to know the truth of it.

He barked out, "Have you had contact with the Sith Lord?"

"No, absolutely not. She never said a word. I would never have...." There was anger there and exasperation and just a touch of fear but the nugget of truth shone through. Veendo hadn't known about Sidious.

Sle'fey could almost relax in the realization that Tharten may have been working alone in her dealings with him. But also he had to know what else had been promised, what had been planned for the Jedi Order.

Sle'fey cut across Veendo's protest, pointing one accusing claw at him. "And yet you went along with her, time and time again."

Even before the Rodian could begin to argue, Master Nunb shot back, "So did you."

There were rumbles of agreement from the other Masters, even from those whom Sle'fey had counted as allies. Everyone here had bowed to her indomitable will at one time or another.

Waving off the comment with a sharp flick of one furred paw, Trest Sle'fey growled out, "What did she promise that would make you betray the Order, Veendo?"

Veendo looked ready to rocket out of his seat straight at Sle'fey; his snout was wet with fury. "I never betrayed the Order. It is the Senate who has betrayed us. Making us into lackeys and fools." He raised his voice, hoarse and contemptuous and full of certainty. "The Jedi Order should have been the crowning glory of the Republic, not trash to be discarded with the next squeeze of credits. It was obvious that we had to be strong enough in order to take back what was ours. Sera knew this."

It was ironic. In some twisted, horrifying way, Sle'fey agreed with him. The Jedi should have been the foremost line of defense for the Republic, the guardians of peace and justice - and Light. But Sera Tharten had not tried to accomplish that with truth and the rightness of her actions but with lies and pain and death.

Death - hundreds of former Jedi had died because of her _actions_. That thought only deepened Sle'fey's disgust. "Strong? How, Veendo? By dismissing Knights? By siphoning off money desperately needed by the Jedi? By gutting the Order?"

"Don't be such a fool. We were making it better." The derision in the Rodian's voice was unmistakable.

The air seemed thinner suddenly or maybe Sle'fey had just forgotten to breathe. "Better? By bleeding it dry?"

"How can you not see? By culling out the weak and useless, of course." Veendo dismissed the rumble of denial from the other Councilors, his gaze flicking toward the guarded door for a moment before settling back into his chair. Nodding toward Sle'fey, he snickered softly, triumphant.

It was obvious Veendo believed what he had done was right but it only made the Bothan more furious.

With a voice as cold as a dead star, Sle'fey said softly, dangerously, "Culling?"

There were many things that Sle'fey had regretted over the years - the deceptions, the secret meetings, the way he bent his neck to that rsshak, Tharten, in order to hide what he was doing - all those things that he had told himself was necessary for the good of the Order but nothing had given him more pain than the loss of the dismissed ones. Those Jedi had done nothing but gotten in the way and they had died for it.

"Culling?" he repeated.

Veendo just smiled. The gorach-slime, was enjoying this obscenity.

The low growl rising in Sle'fey's throat would have warned another Bothan of the danger. But Veendo did not seem to realize just how close he was to having paws wrapped around his neck. Instead, ignoring the question, he only said, "We should be running the Galaxy, taking our rightful place as rulers of the Republic. For that, we needed only the most powerful of the Knights, those with the right mind-set, the right aptitude. Anyone else would just get in the way. Surely, you know this."

For one moment, the Chamber seemed to fill with an astonished hiss, the collective sound of indrawn breath and disbelief. Then there was silence - except for the creak of Nunb's chair as he turned toward Veendo and nodded agreement.

Into the waiting stillness, his muzzle pulled back, his paws curled so tight that he thought his bones might shatter, Sle'fey barked out, "We are servants of the Force, not slave Masters of the Republic."

The Rodian was shaking his head, amused and confident. "You really are blind, Sle'fey, if you think that. Have you learned nothing in the last ten years? The Senate doesn't care about the Jedi nor do the vast wasteland of force-blinds. We have been slaves to every whim of those puling hordes of bureaucratic filth for millennia. We should be dictating what they should do, not waiting for the knife to slit our throats."

Another low growl and Sle'fey felt himself beginning to rise out of his chair, his paws opening and closing, the click of claws on nerfhide a soft counterpoint to the fury he was feeling at the moment. Did Veendo not see how he had betrayed the Jedi, how he had slaughtered those dismissed Knights just as much as if he'd gutted them himself?

His own patience was gone; he could feel it eating at him - banked anger at the fools before him, fear that he would not succeed in returning the Order to its roots, raw guilt that he had not done enough to help those former Jedi avoid the unseen hunters that stalked them still and, under it all, the pain that came with the realization that he hadn't been clever enough to discover the Sith until now - until it might be too late for the Jedi Order.

They needed to find some way to pull the Jedi back from the brink of disaster. _Palpatine_ had engineered all this. And all Veendo could do is prattle on about taking over the Senate. Absurd fool.

A gentle cough, so out of place in this room of broken tiles and unswept corners and fury, cut through the haze of emotion and, confused, Sle'fey blinked at the sound.

Turning, he found Xacor glaring at him, shaking his head sharply and frowning in concern. Then, with his gaze deliberately sweeping across the room, the Zabrak reminded him of just why he was there, why they were all still there. The Hunter's Group under Xacor's guidance had not yet completed their task. They would need more time.

Sle'fey realized that he would have to draw out this little farce a while longer. Taking back the Order had to be their first priority; Palpatine could wait for a few hours.

Sending Xacor a grateful look, he settled back down into his seat. Drawing a deep breath, he blew out the fury of these last few minutes. His paws still ached with pain but it also reminded him of what was at stake.

Sle'fey knew that they needed to solidify their position, removing those who would oppose such a move, and only then could they focus on the real trap. It would not help them to be fighting granite slugs while the Temple was under siege. He must not lose control.

Besides, he had to admit with some satisfaction, Veendo had just condemned himself with his own words.

Now Sle'fey needed to know who else had been willing to _cull_ those in the Light for political gain. Glancing around the room, he stared at each of Tharten's group of Masters - Nunb and Indoctrination's A'Ala-Tanze and Holu TaKet of the Espionage group, trying to decide if they believed in this travesty. "And your accomplices?"

"Nunb agrees with me." A huff of patronizing amusement and Veendo waved his green hand airily towards the others. "As for the rest, it would appear that they don't have the will to accept their destiny." He shook his head, as if astonished that anyone would reject power and the ability to rule over billions. "Tanze here is a fool and Holu plays along for her own reasons."

Ignoring the glares of the Councilors he had just so casually dismissed, Veendo snorted, "They may have been among Master Tharten's collection of right-thinking Jedi but they were told what to do and when to do it. I don't know what hold Sera had over them and I don't care. But you and your little rebellion have now destroyed whatever chance we had of grabbing control of the Republic."

For the briefest moment, he gazed at the entrance to the Chambers, staring at the attentive guards. Then, frowning slightly at the floor, thoughtful for a moment, he seemed to come to a decision. With growing agitation, Veendo said, "Or perhaps not. Tharten is dead but few Jedi know that yet. And the Senate could not possibly have a chance to react to this. We could turn it to our advantage."

Sle'fey twisted away, looking toward Xacor, and shaking his head at such folly. With the Order abused over these last ten years, the numbers of Jedi dropping to the point of ruination, the shame of being helpless in the wake of the Senate's disregard of all of the good the Jedi had done over the millennia - still he would never agree to such a thing.

Apparently, the Rodian Master must have thought silence to be agreement.

Into the astonished wake that followed his statement, Veendo said, "If you think that a Sith Lord is going to allow anything less that the destruction of the Order, you are mistaken. If Palpatine is really such a creature, we need to strike now while he is off-guard. And then we can take over the Senate...."

With absolute distaste, Sle'fey reminded Veendo, "The idea of Jedi ruling the galaxy was one long ago rejected by the Order."

That was quite true. When Sle'fey and Xacor had been but newly minted Knights, several of the more aristocratic Masters whose blood-ties to royal houses had been acknowledged but not encouraged, had argued for just such a thing. The Jedi Council had rejected it outright, claiming that Jedi were not meant to rule and had censured the Masters for it. The Council had maintained that compassion and duty to a higher good were their callings, not some misguided struggle for control over the teeming masses of the galaxy.

The old Council had been right to do so. They were servants of the Force and only that.

Rigid with annoyance, Veendo spat out, "And look what that decision cost us. We are only a step above slavery - them telling us what to do and when to do it, and if not, we are dismissed like week-old garbage. We deserve better."

But Sle'fey was not listening. Instead, something else in the Force was nagging at him, some distant danger about the idea of a Senate takeover - not Palpatine but something else, something that had happened in the past and was happening now. There was the thought of rulers and Jedi Masters and pushing the Order in a direction that had been rejected time and time again.

With a chill, Sle'fey realized that just before the first dismissals, one of the most unrelenting Masters in that long-ago group of aristocrats had left the Order of his own accord. He had rejected the Jedi way, claiming that the Jedi should rule the galaxy and that if they refused the obvious, the Order was no worthy of his effort. Strong in the Force, he had been one of the best swordsmen of the age. He became one of the Lost Twenty when the Order was still counting the loss - before the greater losses of dismissals and deaths.

He was now heading the Separatist movement - Count Dooku.

Dooku and the Jedi and the Republic and rebellion - why would Tharten and Veendo think to take over the Senate? They must have known that it would never work, not without massive backing from other political and militaristic organizations. Did they have such backing? Was there a connection among the Councilors under Tharten's influence and Dooku's?

The very idea was appalling and yet it felt so right.

It also didn't make sense. Tharten was clearly under the influence of Sidious and his slow patient destruction of the Jedi Order. Veendo, Tharten's second in command, was arguing for a Jedi-controlled galaxy similar to Dooku's philosophies.

The obvious conclusion was that they were opposing forces fighting for the remains of the Order, both trying to use the Jedi for their own agendas. Obvious, yes, but nothing seemed to be simple anymore. He'd have to investigate this further – when he had time.

For the moment, however, it was just a distraction. He shook himself free of it. First things first – bring the Jedi Order back to its roots of peace and justice and compassion, and defeat Sidious somehow. Dooku and his philosophies could wait.

Sle'fey turned back to an impatient Veendo, asking, "You mentioned culling. The ones the Order dismissed. Did you help Tharten arrange for their deaths as well?"

"Deaths? What are you talking about?" The Rodian was frowning at the question as if he didn't understand the change in subject. Then he blinked, shaking his head, irritated to be asked such a question. Straightening, his hand brushing the lightsaber against his hip, he said almost casually, "Of course not. We had nothing to do with killing those fools. Why would you say such a thing?"

The reaction only confirmed Sle'fey's suspicions. "We have proof that Tharten had been feeding information on the whereabouts of the dismissed ones to an unknown source, a source we now know to be a Sith Lord. They usually died very quickly once the data was sent out. Did you have a hand in this?"

"Don't be absurd." Veendo's reply was a shade too quick. He lapsed into silence and a glittering, black-eyed stare.

It was an answer of sorts. Trying to keep his fury at bay, Sle'fey turned away deliberately and gazed steadily at the other major player in this. "Then I will ask you, Master Nunb. Did you have anything to do with the deaths of the former Jedi? After all, you were in charge of the dismissals and you kept track of their location for the first six months. Information that would be very useful to the killer."

"No, nothing." Another, hasty response but the Sullustan's voice shook with anxiety. He was sweating, too, his brown skin mottled and damp, a wet sheen of deception. "I knew nothing of what happened to them after the surveillance time was up. It's only been the last few months that I even realized they were dying in large numbers."

Nunb glanced hurriedly at Veendo who was busy silently staring at the guarded door. When he must have realized that there would be no support from his colleague, Nunb looked away, puzzled, staring down at his hands, mumbling, "Master Tharten wanted the lists and I gave them to her." With that, he glanced up, his face rigid as stone. "What she did with them after that is not my concern. I'm not here to protect some useless fool who was stupid enough to be cast out of the Order." He looked thoroughly guilty.

"And the lists themselves? Did you use the information to rid yourself of your enemies? Send them to their deaths because they opposed you in some way?"

Sle'fey had regained his equilibrium. He was certain now that they had handed over lists of those to be dismissed, not to strengthen the Order as Veendo had put it but to get rid of their political foes. But if they had kept releasing the lists to Tharten even after they realized that the dismissed ones were dying in great numbers, this would be murder.

Veendo shifted abruptly, and glaring at the Bothan Master, spat out, "I don't like your tone, Sle'fey. Or your implications."

There was a whisper of sound on his left. From out of the corner of his eye, Sle'fey could see Xacor talking urgently into his comlink. He couldn't quite make out what was being said but the Zabrak kept looking toward the doorway, as if expecting more guards to enter at any moment. A wash of relief shivered through Sle'fey; this was almost done.

Staring back at the Rodian, his voice was space-cold, "My _implication_ is that Tharten was following the orders of a Sith Lord. And you were first among her closest allies. I ask again…."

Apparently he had not been the only one to notice Xacor's hurried murmurs. With a great show of annoyance, Veendo gathered his cloak about him and stood up. "This is outrageous."

A hand hovering just above his lightsaber hilt, glaring first at the guards and then at Sle'fey, Veendo spat out, "I've had enough. More than enough. If not for those hulking animals of Xacor's, I'd have left this interrogation center long ago. But I refuse to be berated by someone as small as you, Master fool." His black eyes were stone and determination. "Order those idiots out of my way or I'll move them myself."

As Veendo began to walk hurriedly toward the door, Sle'fey was there first. Behind him, the guards stood warily, ready to do battle if necessary, but the Bothan signaled them to stand back. He would handle this one. "You are not going anywhere except to a prison cell."

The room was filling with sound - the hurried intake of outraged breath, loud protesting mutters and frantic whisper of Jedi robes as the rest of the Masters sprang to their feet and surrounded the pair.

Sle'fey ignored all but the ragged noise of Veendo's fury.

"Don't threaten me, Sle'fey. I've beaten you before in the arena. Or have you forgotten?" Veendo's hand was full of saber hilt and he pushed it forward, emitter pointing straight at Sle'fey's muzzle. "I thought that we could come to some kind of arrangement but apparently not." With that, his gaze swept across the doorway, and then locked eyes with the Bothan Master once more. "Now get out of my way."

Sle'fey did not even glance down at the lightsaber threatening death mere centimeters from his head. His voice was full of certainty, steady and clear, as he said, "You are under arrest, Veendo, for conspiring to aid the enemies of the Republic, accessory to murder, bribery, theft, falsifying records. Need I go on?"

The saber hilt wavered just for a moment but the rage in the black eyes was rising fast. "You have no proof."

"I've been following you and your friends for quite a while. Leaving the issue of murder aside, I have enough evidence on other charges to send you away for a very long time."

He stared into Veendo's now-sweating face, watched cautiously as the Rodian's guilty gaze dropped and then flicked away to look around the room. It was obvious that he was counting heads, trying to make sure he had enough support to slip through the cage of Hunter's Group guards and Jedi Councilors.

In the Force, the muck-swirl of polluted energy was already beginning to solidify around Veendo's spirit; there was no escape - except through Sle'fey.

His own saber was warm in his pawed grip. Moving slightly as the Rodian's alarm began to distract him, Sle'fey angled away from any direct attack and began to sink into ready stance. It was clear that Veendo would not go down without a fight and Sle'fey needed to survive this. There was too much at stake here.

Knowing that fear can be a powerful motivator and distraction could bring mistakes, Sle'fey pushed again, trying to goad Veendo into foolishness. "Did you think you'd get away with stealing Jedi artifacts and equipment and selling them on the underground market? Or bribing government officials to take part in siphoning off the Order's funds for your own use? Never mind the slaves you bought for Tharten in the last year. Did you think...?"

The sound of a door opening and the several voices beyond was enough. With a hoarse shout, Veendo's blade shoved down toward Sle'fey's face but the Bothan was already moving - although not quite fast enough.

The ozone stench of the lightsaber burning fur and flesh was quickly followed by pulse-pounding agony in his right arm. A small brand across his skin blossomed fire and his smoldering tunic was adding to the pain but he didn't have time to react to it. Veendo was moving again, trying to angle past and reach freedom.

All hell broke loose.

Nunb saw his own chance to escape and rocketed for the door, only to be swung around by one of the guards and then backhanded by Xacor. Flung back, he narrowly missed stepping into the Head of the Espionage group, Holu, who was being pummeled by one of the younger Masters of Sle'fey's contingent, Master Medza. The two other Councilors, Tanze from Tharten's group and Master Phen who was a protege of Xacor, were scuffling in the far corner and the guards were trying to separate friend from foe. It was a brawl of fists and lightsaber swings.

More of the Hunter's Group poured into the room, sabers blazing but it was too dangerous to do more than defend. A wheeling blade could cut friend as well as foe; the melee made it impossible for anything but swift jabs and hand-to-hand combat.

While Sle'fey was pedaling backwards, fighting desperately to keep from being hacked into pieces by Veendo, Xacor punched Nunb again, sending him flying into one of the chairs, hard enough that he lay there half-conscious and unable to do more than stare at the Councilor. The Sullustan didn't even have the strength to protest when a guard slapped a pair of Force cuffs on him, and he merely laid back again, groaning and pulling at the manacles without success.

Ducking a sharp sweep of whining blade, Sle'fey did not see Xacor sizing up the situation and then pelting over to help him. He was trying too hard not to lose a limb, or worse, his head.

Behind the Zabrak, the guards and some of the Masters were still fighting the other two of Tharten's group; the lightsabers from both sides were blazing in short sweeps of color and spitting sound. Those trying to escape, Tanze and Holu TaKet, the Council members who had cheated and stolen with Tharten's encouragement, fell back before the onslaught of combat-hardened guards until, at last, they were shoved down and cuffed.

But Sle'fey was still fighting for his life. Veendo's blue blade was a globe of death-colored light and no one could get near enough to help the Bothan. Xacor moved to one side, obviously looking for an opening but every twist of the blade pushed aside both attacks.

Veendo was good, very good. But he was also alone and surrounded - and furious. Sle'fey could feel him drawing on the dark; the currents of the Force were filthy with the red-black muck of anger and desperation. It seemed to give the Rodian greater power and his blade whirled at a frantic pace.

As he watched Veendo backing up toward the door and freedom, Sle'fey knew he had to end it somehow.

It was Xacor that found the key. A distant clatter of debris, broken floor tiles and pieces of ceiling and captured sabers, grew into a roar as they whizzed past Sle'fey's ear, straight at Veendo. The Rodian slashed furiously at the wreckage, slicing the bits and pieces into scrap, and then focused back on his escape, his lightsaber still whirling fire and death.

Astonishingly, Xacor was not done. The smaller fragments became a hailstorm, pummeling the Rodian, slipping past his guard and straight into his face. Veendo tried to fend off the attack, blinking furiously, one hand up to protect his eyes and then using the Force to push away the rubble even as he continued to slash with his saber.

It was all too much for the Rodian. One small chunk of tile got through, clipping the corner of Veendo's eye, and in that distracted fraction of a second, Sle'fey's blade sliced through Veendo's own saber and most of his hand as well. With an agonized howl, the green Master curled inward, cradling his charred flesh, and collapsed.

There was a relieved quiet. As the discordant whine of lightsabers stilled and the hoarse shouts of denial and fury silenced, only Veendo's pain-filled whimpers remained.

Xacor was first to speak. "Isolate the Councilors in cell AA23. I assume that Master Tharten's body has been removed?" With the nod from one of the guards, he said, "Keep what has happened here quiet but see that Master Veendo has medical attention. We are not barbarians, after all." His eyes flicked toward the blue-hazed transmission still gently humming in the center of the room; the spatter of blood on the prison floor was clearly visible.

Frowning, Xacor said, "The Force shielding must remain on at all times in the cell but do not engage the feedback loop. That device will be dismantled in the next day or so."

The guards nodded as one and began to gather up the cuffed Councilors, Nunb and Holu and Tanze. The three seemed to be dazed by the swiftness of their capture and the painful loss of Force-sense. As they were pushed past the groaning Veendo, the group looked both furious and chagrined.

"Each of you will be charged with treason against the Jedi Order. In addition, various charges will be leveled depending on your activities over the last few years." Sle'fey frowned at the trio, looking at them with exhausted eyes. But his voice was clear and cool and very calm, "It will be in your best interests to cooperate. Think carefully about this and council for your trials will be available to you as soon as we can arrange it. I think you will appreciate that we may need to attend to other matters at the moment."

There was no reaction from the defeated threesome, although Nunb with his face a grey-sludgy brown map of hatred and promised retribution, growled out something imperceptible. Instead, they allowed themselves to be herded out the door and into the reception area without protest.

Master Xacor did not even bother to hide the triumph in his face as he turned toward the fallen Rodian. "Knight Rostak, cuff our Master Veendo and then help him to his feet. He is obviously having problems and the sooner we get him into the cell, the sooner we can get bacta on that wound."

As the guard pulled Veendo up and snapped the Force binders on the remains of his hands, the green Master sent a glare towards the older Masters that was lazer-sharp enough to cut durasteel. A deep growl of fury sounded in his throat, "You won't get away with this, either of you. You have both written your death sentences."

With an indifferent shrug, Sle'fey said mildly, "Perhaps. But I won't go down alone. You will be there before me."

"You'll pay for this, I swear it." Veendo's voice was shrilling up, spouting venom and retribution as the guards pulled him closer to the door. Resisting the pressure to move, digging in his heels, he twisted for a moment, to stare back at the Councilors. "You haven't heard the last of me." And with a great shove, he was through the entrance to the Council Chambers, shrieking foul warning to any and all who would listen as he was dragged away.

Xacor pulled the last of the guards aside and said softly, "Knight Rostak, I'm putting you in charge of this. Keep it quiet. I don't want anyone else to know for now. They will learn of this soon enough."

The foremost of the Hunter's group bowed his head in acknowledgement. "I won't let you down, Master. And now, if you will excuse me, I have a few prisoners to attend to." With a quick nod of approval, Rostak hurried off after the other guards.

The Masters could still hear Rodian curses echoing in the hallway, warbling in furious denial, and the clipped snap of nerfhide boots on tile. They let the sound wash over them, pleas from the guilty and orders from the guards until, a few moments later, the turbolift door closed, cutting off Veendo's condemnation mid-sentence.

It was quiet at last.

As the other Masters looked on, expectant, Sle'fey allowed himself a moment of relief. The first part was done. Now they only had to arrest a beloved-by-all Supreme Chancellor and force the Senate to recommit to a Jedi Order that served the Light.

There was one more thing and it was a small matter in the grand scheme of things. But if Sle'fey were ever to be clean again, he had to get Obi-Wan Kenobi to forgive him for all those years of betrayal.

Now, he needed to focus on what to do next. He turned toward the two younger Masters. "Master Medza, Master Phen, well done. You have helped the Jedi Order to regain its lost Light with your actions. But I would ask for more, if you would allow it."

"I could do nothing less, Master but what now? The threat of Palpatine looms over us all." Tion Medze looked pale but determined. He had also put his finger on the pulsepoint of the problem.

Her face drawn with worry, Master Phen agreed, "And there is a bigger danger. Because of the belief that the Sith were destroyed over a thousand years ago, it is not against the law to be a Sith Lord. We have no legal recourse."

Sle'fey patted the air with his paws, trying to gentle down the anxiety that threatened them all, "Masters, Masters, I agree that it looks grim. But we have a few things to take care of before we can tackle what to do about Sidious."

Exchanging skeptical looks, the two younger Councilors bowed their heads and waited for instruction.

The Bothan was humbled by their faith in his ability and he sent a silent plea to the Force that he might see them through this. Then he got down to business. "Master Medze.... Tion, I need you to check up on our friend from the Senate Oversight Committee, Zaros. Make sure that he's comfortable and tell him that we will see him presently and answer all of his questions. Tell him nothing else."

With a snort and a quick shake of the head, smiling grimly, Tion said, "Sending me into battle already?" The other Masters shared his trepidation but someone had to deal with that pompous bureaucrat. Better a Jedi who had never opposed the man before. It would confuse the ornate buffoon. "Very well, Master. But I must admit that I'd rather face a nest of gundarks without a saber than him."

Xacor clapped the young man on the shoulder, and snickered softly, "So would we all."

Joining in with a quick yip of amusement, enjoying the moment, Sle'fey was reluctant to let it go but time was pressing fast. He turned to the other young Master, "Phen, check on Obi-Wan Kenobi and Qui-Gon Jinn. I need to know what their conditions are and when they will be able to function again, particularly in defense of the Jedi Order."

She nodded gravely. "Since I have some experience in hospital field triage before taking over my current post, I can tell you right now that Master Jinn will be marginally functional within a day or so. The method that Padawan Sl'etah used was quite effective and since it cauterized a stomach wound, it will be much easier to repair than the shoulder wound of Knight Kenobi. I'm not sure how badly Kenobi is hurt. He may need further surgery and extensive physical therapy. But I will check for you."

The news was less than he had hoped but that could not be helped. She had experience and she would know what questions to ask. "Good. Report back here in half an hour. We will discuss our options then."

With that dismissal, both Masters bowed and hurried off - gathering information that might be vital to their cause. When they were out of sight, Sle'fey let himself go and slumped boneless into his chair.

Xacor stood over him, looking down with concern. "Trest, next time, let me take the lead. You haven't been to the arena in a long time. Lightsaber fighting takes practice if you don't want to lose a few parts of your anatomy."

Deep in his chest, a sound of exhaustion and fear rumbled there. He nodded wearily, "A lesson I learned quite well today." As he leaned back, he wiped a paw across his eyes, trying to will away the tiredness. "I didn't want it to end like this. I had hoped that they would have seen reason."

The Zabrak Master snorted, an inelegant sound but he was never one for ignoring the truth or avoiding it. "Tharten's group? Not in this lifetime." Shaking his head, he said, "It turned out better than I had hoped, considering the circumstances."

Sle'fey looked at Xacor with affection. Straightforward and true, he was a good friend and the only one Sle'fey would have chosen to guard his back, with the exception of one other and Kenobi would never have accepted the idea anyway.

Shoving aside the errant thought, he rubbed his eyes again, and winced as the charred skin on his arm pulled tight. He ignored it.

"With no clear holopics and scrambled vid feeds…." Bleakly, he admitted, "Zak, I thought it was one of Palpatine's aides. I thought it was Wilhuff Tarkin. His family has long opposed the Jedi Order and their ambitions have only become more obvious with time. He's young enough but with his family's influence, he's managed to cut our funding almost in half, he and his cousin Ranulph before him. I never expected Palpatine. Never!"

He looked away, into the late morning light, not really seeing the beauty of the day but only the duty he must follow. Even if that duty led to his death, he would do right by the Jedi Order and bring it back to the Light. He was puzzled and confused at the information that Kenobi had obtained. "Palpatine hasn't been in the Senate or Chancellor for long enough to bring the Order to this. The Tarkins have been manipulating the Senate for years. Decades!" He looked away for a moment, then whispered, "It made sense."

"Trest, I agreed with you if you remember." Sitting abruptly into his own chair, Xacor nodded, "Palpatine had everyone fooled. The question becomes what do we do about it."

"That's just the problem. I have no idea."


	55. Chapter 29: The truth part 1

**Chapter 29 - The Truth can set you free... or not**

**Part 1**

Atel had always hated going to the Healer's ward. From her earliest memories, the place had held nothing but the sharp bitter taste of copper pain. The Force, despite the concerted efforts of the Healers there, seemed tainted, its clear currents choked with the smoky black-red remnants of loss and fractured bodies, filled with the swirling despair of tormented souls and agony. Even the smell of bacta would send her skittering away from the touch of healing hands, so great was her revulsion of the place.

She knew it was not right that she should feel this. After all, hate is of the Dark, but it had become almost instinctual - a remembered response. She had been there many times before, from the day she broke her arm and felt the agony of white bone piercing her skin when she was but a few years old to the infection last year that had had her Master frantic with worry.

But Atel could not leave Obi-Wan alone in such a place - even if he didn't want her near him.

She was waiting now for him to get out of surgery. She knew that his injuries were not life-threatening but they would need time to heal. The physical therapy alone would keep him at the Temple for days, perhaps weeks. They would also need to monitor the bone replacement and nerve regeneration. Luckily, Master Tharten's saber had not pierced any vital organs nor had she touched his sword-arm but it had made a ruin of his other shoulder. It would be a while before he would be fit for duty - whatever duty that might be.

In a way, Master Jinn was better off. The vibroshiv had cut through skin and muscle, nicking one rather important blood vessel but her quick efforts had saved his life. The Healers had only to restore the seared flesh with grafts and bacta; thankfully, there was no bone damage. He would be well long before Obi-Wan. Even the physical therapy would be short.

All of this did not help to lessen her anxieties; she was sore from being thrown aside - twice - and the bruises had already begun to purple. She was stiff and the headache behind her eyes threatened to grow worse.

More importantly, she was worried about Obi-Wan and his state of mind.

He had said nothing else after telling her that he was leaving the Jedi - just sat there in pain, his face as white as bone dust, his eyes dull-grey with shock. He hadn't even made light of his injuries when the Healers returned. She knew then that something may have broken in him. For as long as she had known him, Obi-Wan had always downplayed the hurt he suffered in his duty to the Jedi.

Now he didn't seem to care and that was far worse than any saber wound.

She was helpless. She could do nothing for him, other than to be there when he regained consciousness. She knew, too, that as soon as he saw her face, he would turn away from her. Their partnership had ended; their ten years of laughter and warmth and sharing their hopes, their dreams, their lives were over.

Pressing one hand to her eyes, Atel pushed back at the unshed tears. She had cried enough for a lifetime in the past few hours and she refused to allow the grief to overwhelm her again. When everything else was done, then she would deal with her own loss. For now, she would be strong for Obi-Wan's sake.

The rustle of cloth had her turning around in an instant. She was expecting one of the staff, perhaps Healer Leabe or Neil'don, to talk to her about Obi-Wan's progress. They saved Master Jinn's life down in that filthy cell and would likely be treating her Master's shoulder wound as well.

Instead, surprisingly, she was alone in the waiting room with Councilor NeTa Phen, head of Human Resources and Hospital services. The Jedi Master had not been on the Council long and rarely spoke in the sometimes acrimonious discussions with Master Obi-Wan but Atel knew she was a protégé of Councilor Xacor and often followed his lead. The Chalactan woman had seemed kind enough the few times Atel had met with her. But it was odd that she would be at the Healers now when Council was still in session unless she was carrying out some business of the Jedi Order.

It became quickly obvious, however, that Councilor Phen was not there to mediate complaints with the Healer staff. She had another matter to discuss. "Padawan Sl'etah, Knight Kenobi came through surgery with few problems. He is in the recovery area at the moment and still rather groggy but once he is released to his room, he should be fully awake. You should wait for him there."

"Room?" Atel blinked surprise. Unless they were seriously ill or contagious, Jedi were put into wards, not private rooms. It was easier on the limited Healing staff and more efficient. The choice of sending him to a single room was odd and not a little troubling. "Why not the ward? You just said that he would be fine. Is something wrong?"

Master Phen held up her hand, motioning for silence. "No, the Council thought it best that we isolate him and former Master Jinn at this time."

"Master, please... is Obi-Wan under arrest? Because of Master Tharten? He was only defending himself." Atel was almost babbling with anxiety.

She knew that the Council would not take Tharten's death lightly. After all, her Master and Sera Tharten had often been at odds over the years, and if they decided that it was premeditated, that he had planned to kill her when he had the chance, it was possible that they might charge Obi-Wan with murder. But the Council would never do such a thing without evidence or so she hoped.

"Calm yourself, Padawan." The Councilor was frowning, her face shuttered and remote.

From the way Master Phen was staring at her, it looked as if the Chalactan Master found her outburst to be disturbing or distasteful, or perhaps even pitiable. But Atel no longer cared about what they thought of her actions; they were irrelevant at the moment. She wanted to know what they were planning to do with Obi-Wan.

As Atel stepped forward, anxious to find out why the Council had decided to isolate him, Master Phen cut her off, saying bluntly, "No, he is not under arrest but he is being kept incommunicado for the moment. Knight Kenobi and former Master Jinn will be allowed to leave once certain matters are cleared up."

"Certain matters?" She tried to appear noncommittal, hoping to glean more information but Master Phen saw past her casual question.

"I'm not at liberty to say. However, there will be guards posted at the door to restrict entry." The Councilor looked away for a moment, and then stared at Atel with steadfast determination in her eyes. Her voice, too, would brook no dissent. It was as hard as durasteel. "You, of course, will be allowed to attend Kenobi but you will say nothing at present about Master Tharten's death. To anyone."

"What? Why?" For a moment, Atel was startled by such a request. After all, Master Tharten's death would have grave consequences for the Jedi Order and there would need to be an inquiry.

Justice among the Jedi was swiftly done. Punishment was often public and sometimes brutal but it had been effective in quelling dissent among the Knights. But there had also been rumors of trials held in secret - nothing concrete but enough gossip to make Atel wary of this demand for isolation.

It did not seem possible but Master Phen's voice hardened further. "That is Council business and restricted. You will tell no one about her death. Not the Healers, not the guards, no one. Until a Council member tells you otherwise." She stepped forward, all threat and implacable determination. "Are we clear on this?"

Her anxiety skyrocketing, Atel refused to back down. This was too important. "But the Healers know and Obi-Wan and Master Jinn. They all know."

The Councilor waved off her protest, walking slowing toward Atel and stopping less that a handspan away. She said distinctly, "Only two Healers and they have both agreed with the Council's decision. You may speak of it privately with Jinn and Kenobi but only them. No one else."

As she stood beneath Master Phen's stony gaze, Atel considered the implications. It was sounding worse and worse, covering up a death of this magnitude and all the witnesses either injured or intimidated into silence. What could the Council want that would call for such a ploy? And how could she find out what was going on without endangering Obi-Wan still further?

When Atel did not reply, Phen's eyes narrowed, the distinctive marks on her face sharp against her dark skin. She looked as unyielding as neutronium and utterly without mercy. "I must insist, Padawan Sl'etah. If I do not have your word, I will be forced to keep you isolated and locked in your quarters or one of the Temple cells. I don't think you want that, do you?"

"No, I don't want that." Atel was trapped. If she did not agree, she would be unable to find out what was going on, unable to help Obi-Wan - and she was not going to give up so easily. She would just have to find another way and, for that, she would have to remain free. "Very well, you have my word, Master."

"A wise decision, Padawan." For a moment, Atel thought she saw a glint of relief in Master Phen's eyes, but when she looked again, there was only grim resolve. The Chalactan Councilor said, "I have arranged for Kenobi and Jinn to share a room. I believe they have much to discuss and it may help Kenobi to regain his balance."

As she spoke, Master Phen looked away toward the closed door, frowning distractedly - as if she had completed one minor yet distasteful task and was trying to move quickly onto something of more importance. Turning back, she gazed down at Atel, studying her and then the woman nodded abruptly. "A knight from the Hunter's Group will escort you there. You will be watched for the next few days but it is merely a precaution. As long as you remain silent, you have nothing to fear."

The Councilor's face sharpened, etched in stark lines of frown and worry. Her eyes dark with foreboding, she muttered softly, "These are trying times after all."

Atel could not help but agree. "Yes, trying times."

********************************

Atel was still mulling over the implications of Master Phen's commands when a large, rather intimidating Knight arrived to escort her to Obi-Wan's room. The man said little other than to insist on silence as per the orders of the Jedi Council. She glowered at him but nodded, following him as he turned and marched out of the waiting room and into the hallway.

She had to admit that the Knight certainly knew how to keep other people from talking to her or asking uncomfortable questions of the pair. The few Jedi that they encountered gave him a wide berth and would not meet her eyes at all.

Atel would have found it disturbing but she hardly noticed. She had her own problems.

As they walked toward the private rooms at the back of the Healer's wing, she was trying to think about what to do. She needed desperately to find her center again before facing her Master and it was only a matter of time before the inevitable confrontation. Atel wanted to do the right thing and help Obi-Wan regain his balance but everything that she had done in the disaster of the last few days had only made things worse between them.

With that depressing thought, they arrived at an unmarked durasteel door and she was told to wait inside for Obi-Wan. As expected, the sharp glare she sent back to the man was ignored. So, with all dignity, she stalked past him into the room and sat down carefully in one of the worn seats near the entrance.

At least, the Knight remained outside but it was small comfort.

Master Jinn was already there and asleep on one of the medical beds. The afternoon light, streaming in from the large transparasteel window on the far wall, was dazzling - rich and golden, but it only made the Bendu seem smaller somehow and very pale. Fluid bags were still attached to his arm. He had lost quite a bit of blood and it would take some hours to replenish.

She did not want to disturb his rest, hoping for a few quiet moments to settle into some semblance of serenity, but Master Jinn must have heard her or felt her presence. Giving a shallow sigh, he turned his face toward her, opening his eyes slowly as if reluctant to awaken.

His voice was thready and very weak but he seemed to gather enough strength to ask, "Where is Obi-Wan?"

Concerned, Atel was quick to reassure him, "He's just out of surgery and will be here fairly soon."

Master Jinn jerked in surprise, his arm pulling at the tubes of the fluid bag as he twisted around to stare at her. The movement must have hurt because he grunted sharply and frowned down toward his chest, his face whitening further. But a moment later, his voice tight with pain and anxiety, he said, "How... how bad is he?"

She sent him a tentative smile, trying to calm him down. "Master Jinn, it is all right. He took a saber strike in his left shoulder and it caused some damage. The Healers said that he would be fine with time and care."

As she spoke, she walked over to him and, putting one hand on his shoulder, pushed him back down into the pillows, trying to gentle his worry with a soft touch. She checked the tubing to make sure nothing had come undone and then stood there, looking down at a very bewildered and distraught old man.

"Padawan, tell me what happened." Qui-Gon might be wounded and weak with exhaustion from his fight with Master Tharten but he was not to be denied.

She let go a long sigh, trying to shove aside the anger and confusion that had punished her in the last few hours. Her Master had said such terrible things and assumed even worse - murder and betrayal at her hands. While it made no sense, Atel couldn't fault him for it. Something had happened to him while she was unconscious, something terrible.

She only knew that when she had regained her senses in that awful place, she had felt Obi-Wan's pain and utter despair. The Force itself seemed shadowed with remnants of the Dark - the dread-filled pressure of wrongness, the almost electric taste of revenge, the profane mixture of shame and satisfaction. The loss of hope.

She had never thought to encounter it within the Temple and certainly not with her Master.

Perhaps Qui-Gon Jinn would be the one to make it right. Obi-Wan loved the old Bendu and would likely listen to him, more than he would her much as it pained her to admit. She only knew that she would do whatever it took to bring him back. Somehow.

"Master…." Atel paused, trying to think of how to explain it when she didn't understand it herself. "Obi-Wan killed Master Tharten but not before she somehow managed to get past his defenses. She burned his shoulder through to his back but missed the vital organs. It could have been much worse."

Nodding with relief, he closed his eyes for a moment, obviously trying to gather strength and then rasped, "Was he able to find out anything?"

As she stared out the window into the Coruscanti skyline, the spires of the Jedi Temple aglow in the lovely afternoon light, in her mind's eye she saw nothing except pain and loss. Regret laced her voice as she said softly, "I don't know. I wasn't conscious at the time." Forcing herself to put aside all thoughts of what was and could never be again, she gazed down at Qui-Gon's worried face. "Master Jinn, I hope you will forgive me for hurting you. I couldn't think of any other way to stop the bleeding."

"Padawan…," The Bendu nodded his gratitude. "Atel, you saved my life. I am in your debt."

"Thank you, Master Jinn, for understanding." After Obi-Wan's harsh judgment in the cell, she had not known what to expect from the Bendu but those few gentle words brought some small relief to her battered spirit.

Atel looked away for a moment, frowning thoughtfully, and then faced Qui-Gon squarely. Summoning her courage, swallowing hard, she drew in a deep breath and let it out again, knowing that she needed to explain what happened to her Master if Qui-Gon was ever going to be able to help him.

"I think you should know that Obi-Wan ...." she paused, trying to get past the memories of death and betrayal, "is damaged. More than his shoulder."

When Qui-Gon tried to interrupt, she shook her head, hurrying to explain, "No, not physically but he.... something happened, something to do with Master Tharten's death. The Force was tainted with it and when I woke, he started accusing me of deceit, kept raving about me spying for the Council and him mind-raping Master Tharten, torturing her. He wasn't making any sense. But whatever it was, it marked him somehow. He was...he seemed to be going dark. Or mad."

Remembered dread caught in her throat. Surprisingly, pain, too, was present, more than just the aching bruises from her fights with Obi-Wan. Atel looked down to see her hands curling into fists, the muscles under her skin pulling so tight that she thought the bones might shatter. With a great deal of effort, she opened her fingers and splayed them wide, resting her palms on the edge of the bed.

Qui-Gon was looking at her if she were going insane.

But before he could ask her for further explanation, the door opened and in floated a hoverlift with a very pale Obi-Wan on it. Beside him, datapad in hand, Healer Leabe, was talking quietly with him.

Her Master looked terrible, exhausted and angry. A deep frown scored his face; one white-knuckled hand was clenched, the blanket covering him twisted into a tight knot of cloth beneath his fingertips. He was whispering furiously, too low for her to hear, but the Healer just shook his head as Obi-Wan continued to argue with him.

Even from her position near Master Jinn, Atel could see that Obi-Wan was seething. She wasn't sure if it was because the Healer would not agree to whatever her Master wanted or because of deeper issues. The horrors of the morning were still fresh in her mind and she could only assume that it was worse for her Master.

With so much that had already happened, she had to admit that she would have been surprised had he not been upset. But for his own sake, he would need to find his calm center soon. Recovery took more than surgery and bacta; it took a strong will and a determination to heal - and a spirit at peace.

Obi-Wan was not at peace.

Apparently, the Healer agreed. As they approached, Atel could hear the soft reprimand as the man reminded Obi-Wan that anger only hindered recovery and that if he wanted to leave sooner than later, he would need to let go of the darker emotions and find solace in the Force. Eyes narrowing, Obi-Wan glowered at him, and then seeing Atel standing there watching him, deliberately turned away, ignoring them all.

Pain blossomed in her chest as Obi-Wan's rejection became obvious. For a moment, it hurt to breathe. But she fought through the grief, accepting it, and with a fierce determination to do what was best for her Master, walked toward the Healer to find out what to do next. "Healer Leabe, will he be all right?"

As Leabe maneuvered the hoverlift over to the bed across from Qui-Gon's own, the Healer said, "The surgery went well. There were no complications, and based on his past record, he will be clamoring to leave before the day is out."

Obi-Wan shot him a look of pure disgust as if offended by the mild reproof. But he said nothing and turned his gaze upward, staring at the ceiling as he had done in the cell a few hours ago, shutting them out.

Leabe ignored the slight. "Knight Kenobi has a strong constitution and I expect a full recovery." He checked on the fluid line and then tapped Obi-Wan on the arm, signaling him to move onto the medical bed. With some reluctance and not a little stiffly, Obi-Wan lifted up slightly and shifted over.

The movement pulled his tunic open a bit and Atel could see the large bandages covering one side of Obi-Wan's injured shoulder. She knew that they were soaked in bacta; the treatment could work wonders but it would take some time. But he must have noticed her looking at him. With rough-edged resentment, he yanked the tunic back over his chest, his darkened eyes flicking towards her own and then away again, his face set in lines of sharp rebuke.

Suddenly she felt like an intruder, not someone who had shared a life with him but an unwanted stranger.

As Obi-Wan settled back down, his head tipped upward and he was frowning at the ceiling again - still silent. Still angry, she realized. He wasn't just ignoring her, he was shutting out everyone in the room. He hadn't looked at Master Jinn once.

Leabe wasn't going to let one irate patient keep him from his own duty. "Knight Kenobi, I will be back later to give you your pain medication options and the schedule for therapy but at the moment, the Healer's ward is rather full so if you will excuse me...."

It was clear that Leabe was waiting for some signal from him but when Obi-Wan remained silent, Atel nodded, "We will be able to care for him, Healer Leabe. I've done it many times. I'll comm you if anything changes."

"Thank you, Padawan Sl'etah. I will return to check on both of my patients later." And with a quick nod, the Healer left.

As the door started to close behind him, Atel caught a glimpse of the Knight who had escorted her to the room. He was still guarding the entrance but had stopped the Healer and was talking to him rather insistently. She couldn't hear what they were saying but Leabe looked upset. Before she could find out more, the door clicked shut.

The three of them were alone at last.


	56. Chapter 29: The truth part 2

**Chapter 29 - The Truth can set you free... or not**

**Part 2**

The tension was as solid as durasteel. In the Healer's ward, the Force itself was often clotted with the despair of broken bodies and fractured souls; no matter how much Light poured into clearing through the contamination, there were always tendrils of dark pain that remained behind, waiting for the next victim.

It was no different now. Flowing in knots of smoky grief and red bitterness, the great energy field seemed to be warping around her Master, its detritus-filled currents swirling with outrage, fear and dread. Far down, past the black-crimson fury, past all the other dark emotions that were normally so alien to her Master, Atel could almost feel the shame. And that was the most disturbing of them all.

Master Jinn must have sensed the darkness as well. A brief worried glance toward Atel and then, turning his head to one side so that he could see Obi-Wan more clearly, with a voice both urgent and very concerned, Qui-Gon rasped out, "Obi-Wan, are you all right? Your Padawan has been telling me about your injuries." When he did not answer, when he kept looking at the ceiling and ignoring him, the Bendu said cautiously, "Obi-Wan?"

Her Master might as well have been carved from stone. Only the eyes staring upward and the movement of the blanket as he slowly twisted it in his hands showed that he was awake and listening.

Atel refused to allow it any longer; Qui-Gon did not deserve his anger or this treatment. With quick strides, she marched over to Obi-Wan's bed, and hands on hips, scowled down at him. She was ready for an argument; a wound must be drained before it can begin to heal, and if it took him to be angry with her to do it, then that's what would be.

"What do you think you are doing?" she said tartly. He drew in one startled breath, gazing at her for a moment in shock, and then turned away. She reached over, and with a fierce tug, pulled the fabric out of his grip. Her voice sharpened and her words were distinct and scathing. "Look at me."

But when the stubborn man continued to ignore her, she grabbed his face and turned it toward her. "I'm not going to stop until you tell me what you are doing."

He jerked back, wrenching out of her grasp and sent her a glare that would have killed lesser beings. "Protecting you." His black eyes flicked toward Qui-Gon's for a moment and then back to hers. "Protecting you both."

Blinking at the grim determination in his voice and dismayed that he would think he could protect anyone right now, she said, "What?"

"There is a guard standing outside the door, Atel." Drawn and pale, his face was cut into lines of pain and desperation. From where she stood, she could see that he was still trying to find his balance and losing; it was obvious in the clench of his jaw and the way his fingers were curling and uncurling against the sheets. The air crackled with emotion.

Bleakly, he reminded her, "I've just killed the Head of the Council. Don't be so naive as to think I will be allowed to leave the Jedi without some kind of punishment. Imprisonment is the best I can hope for although execution remains likely." She stared at him in horror but he just ignored her alarm, shrugging slightly. "Did you really think they would let me go, no matter how much I might wish it?"

"You were just defending yourself and Master Jinn. Surely they would know and understand this."

He gave a sharp dry laugh but there was no amusement in his eyes. "Atel, you little fool, that isn't how it works. Not any more. But you have done nothing wrong. And Sle'fey promised that Qui-Gon would go free." He grabbed onto her hand and murmured, low and fast, "They have holocams everywhere. I don't want to implicate you, either of you, in Tharten's murder. The less I say, the better."

She put her own hand over his, and smiled sadly down at him. "Obi-Wan, he's not here for you but to make sure no one enters or leaves this room without the consent of the Council."

The idea seemed to undo him, driving him again toward desperation. "So we are all prisoners then."

Before she could say anything else, he roughly pulled out of her grip, his hands fisting into taut sinew and bone. He shot a fierce glare at the transparasteel portal, the Council spire framed in the rich light of late afternoon. "How their promises fade away with the slightest excuse. They said Qui-Gon would be free to leave. Tharten's death must have cost them more than they expected and we are the casualties."

Atel sent a pleading look toward Qui-Gon. Her Master seemed to be plunging back into dark emotions, and she knew he would not be happy with the truth about the guard outside. But he needed to know. Hesitantly, she said, "I have been told by Councilor Phen to keep silent about Master Tharten. She threatened to have me confined to quarters or a cell if I discussed her death with anyone other than Master Jinn and you."

"Still playing games, all of them," he spat out. "What a fool I was to ever believe their lies."

Laying back down, Obi-Wan grunted softly as he jostled his injured shoulder, then closed his eyes against the warm light, hiding again from them both. Atel could see the effort it cost him not to rail against the Order; his hands were clawing against each other, his face sharply edged in frown and pain. Instead of letting go and trying to find peace, he sank inward, hoarding his anguish and his fury. She didn't know what to say that could ease his mind. She had never seen him look so distraught.

From out of the corner of her eye, Atel had seen that Qui-Gon had been listening to them both, appalled astonishment in his gaze. She had warned him, after all, but it took the reality of Obi-Wan's reactions for it to become apparent just how much her Master had been hurt.

"There is little we can do for the moment, Obi-Wan, but rest and heal." She could see that Qui-Gon was trying to calm him down, trying to ease her Master's pain and alleviate his feelings of betrayal and despair. With soft words, the Bendu said, "Focus on the now and the rest will take care of itself."

Obi-Wan shot him a glare of pure disbelief. "Yes, we have seen how well that works." Reaching up, he scraped across his face with one hand, pressing his fingertips into the deep frown lines as though to ease some pain there. Sounding defeated, he murmured, "At least you survived the attack."

Breathing relief as Obi-Wan's anger seemed to cool, Qui-Gon gestured toward Atel. "Your apprentice was able to stop the bleeding in time. I owe her my life."

"Yes, she can be inventive in a fight." It would have been a compliment except for the sound of contempt in his voice and the way he refused to look at her. The memory of his accusations were still a vibroshiv, cutting away at her spirit.

"Inventive, indeed." Qui-Gon's gaze was steady on hers and he nodded once in thanks.

Standing a little straighter, she sent the Bendu a hesitant smile back. But Obi-Wan merely grunted at the assessment, a poor agreement at best.

Qui-Gon let the rudeness pass. Wincing a little as he twisted around to look at Obi-Wan more clearly, he said, "But what of your own wound? How bad is it?"

"It is nothing." The caustic, clipped way he said the words, the flattened mouth and rigid frown - all spoke of a reluctance to answer Qui-Gon's question.

It was typical for her Master to downplay his injuries, at least in the past. He had become somewhat of a trial for the Healers. He would often argue with them to be allowed back to their quarters much sooner than the Healers would wish. It was a nod to his tenacity and negotiation skills that he often won.

But this was more than just modesty, she realized. He was trying to deny what had happened: to himself, to her, to his old Master. She could feel it in the Force, the shame flaring and then the anger.

Qui-Gon must have felt it as well. But he had known Obi-Wan much longer than she and knew how to get around his stubborn former Padawan. He said mildly, "Atel said that it was a saber thrust that...."

"It is nothing. I'm fine." The cold warning in Obi-Wan's voice chilled the air.

The Bendu was nothing if not stubborn, perhaps even more so than her Master. Atel stood there watching the two of them argue, one demanding an answer and the other refusing - two immovable objects colliding. It would have almost been amusing if it were not so serious.

Qui-Gon tried again. "She was giving her account of the fight but I would like to hear.... "

"I'm sure she told you everything you need to know." Obi-Wan sent Atel a glare that could have melted durasteel but she only looked back at him with mild eyes. She did not want to antagonize him any more than was necessary but he had to get past this. His blasted ideas of protection and honor would not help him here. He needed to let go. She would be patient enough to see it through. She had to be.

It was Qui-Gon whose patience had run dry. "Obi-Wan, stop being so evasive. This is beneath you."

"Beneath...." Turning abruptly toward them both, Obi-Wan let out a sharp hiss of pain, his face paling into bone white. But he ignored it. With grim determination, he pushed himself up and leaned on his good elbow to face Qui-Gon better. Eyes narrowed, his mouth flat and bitter, he said curtly, "I'm sure you want to know how I got skewered like a mott-toad. How my pitiful defenses were no better than some stupid crècheling's. How I should have been paying attention to the moment." Breathing out his disgust, he sounded almost ashamed, "How I made a mockery of your teachings."

"Obi-Wan, I don't believe that." Qui-Gon shook his head, reassurance in his voice.

Shaking his head, Obi-Wan looked away, out into the afternoon light and murmured, "Believe what you want but the fact remains that I got hurt by allowing my emotions to interfere with my concentration." Another rough pained grunt and he fell back into the pillows. "Not exactly a shining example of an exemplary Knight but sufficient to act as bait for the trap."

"Bait? What do you mean?" Qui-Gon demanded. He and Atel exchanged worried glances. It sounded as if Obi-Wan was sinking back into despair again; his voice was stained with it.

A caustic, sour chuckle and then her Master said bitterly, "Bait as in using someone to draw another out. Waving said bait in front of the head of the Jedi Council so that she wouldn't see what Sle'fey and his lackeys were doing behind her back."

"Obi-Wan, what are you talking about?" Master Jinn's voice was a complex mixture of frustration and concern and fraying patience. He looked, too, as if he wanted to get out of bed and throttle her Master or hold him close as only a father could do, anything to get him out of this strange mixture of misery and anger.

But Obi-Wan ignored the question, plowing on with whatever remembrances were keeping him captive. "If nothing else, you have been cleared of all charges. Sle'fey said that he will even let you use a lightsaber again." Another bitter chuckle and he sent a thunderous frown toward the Council spire. His hands were balled again into fists and the cords on his neck stood out - white sinew against pale skin. He seemed furious, too, in the way he ground out his memories, slipping back and forth between sarcasm and grief. "How kind of him. A fitting reward for almost killing you, don't you think? Oh course, that assumes that he lets you leave. He is likely to be lying. After all, we do have a guard keeping us safe and secure. Mustn't have anyone escaping without his permission."

Obi-Wan wasn't the only one grieving. Master Jinn looked as if he's seen the child of his heart fall into madness and didn't know what to do next. But apparently, he had long experience with wayward apprentices.

Qui-Gon's face smoothed out into Jedi calm, some hard decision weighing into his skin. Drawing in a deep breath and then slowly letting it out again, distinctly and with the absolute command of a former Master of the Jedi Order, he said, "Obi-Wan, I want you to stop acting like a petulant child and tell me what happened."

Blinking in surprise, Obi-Wan looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. He lay there, breathing harshly, his dull-gray eyes shrunken and lost, gazing at his old Master. Then all at once, he collapsed inward, the one good shoulder sagging back and his face ashen. He lifted a hand and scrubbed across his mouth for a moment, choking back something. A word, a grimace, Atel wasn't sure. Then he nodded slowly in defeat.

His voice was lifeless. "There were several holocams in the cell. With direct feed to the Council chamber. I had a perfect spot, right in front of the Council, helpless to do anything while you got knifed by that rsshak slime." Swallowing hard, he said softly, "They were using you, Qui-Gon. As bait to draw Tharten out. Just as I was used and it worked very well."

When Obi-Wan said nothing else, Atel and Qui-Gon exchanged worried glances but Master Jinn would not allow the story to end there. They both knew that Obi-Wan had to get it out, all of it. Gently, the Bendu said, "There must be more to this."

Obi-Wan nodded, his eyes dull-grey with remembered dread. "I tried to get to you in time to prevent it but they wouldn't let me go." A hoarse whisper that spoke of disbelief and despair - he was caught in that moment. "They wouldn't let me go. I begged them to. But I couldn't get past the guards and they wouldn't allow me to leave until they had what they wanted."

Qui-Gon looked as if he were going to be ill. Ashen from more than just blood-loss, he seemed distraught that he had been a catalyst in this. Atel, too, was horrified but she knew what her Master would say next. After all, she had not believed him at the time and it had only made everything worse in the end. She should have known he was telling the truth. She should have known.

"And then my helpful apprentice tried to stop me in the turbolift. I ended up using the stairs to reach you. Almost too late."

The Bendu sent her a fierce frown, but she turned away, looking down at Obi-Wan. More than anything, she wanted to gather him close and chase away the nightmares like he had done when she was little and afraid. She wanted to let him know how much she wished to turn back time, how much she regretted every moment since this damnable mission began. Her hand, hovering above his own, was aching to touch, to soothe his troubled spirit, to help him in this but she could not do it. There was too much between them, and in the end, she stood there forlorn and alone, hands clenched at her side, and said, "I thought... Master, I am so sorry. I had no idea."

It was as if she had not spoken at all. Obi-Wan was staring out the window, watching the afternoon turn into soft twilight. "I wonder if they enjoy it, playing with the lives of others. I had always thought that being a Jedi Knight was what I was meant to be but now...." A dry, harsh bark of a laugh, all revulsion in the loss of a lifetime of devotion, he said, "Foolish dreams. The reality is that I'm just a pawn in their filthy game and have been for years."

"Obi-Wan?" Softly said, Qui-Gon seemed to be trying to send him comfort, as she could not.

Obi-Wan grimaced, glancing toward his old Master and back into the cloudless darkening skies of Coruscant. "They used me as bait to draw out Tharten. Seems she was in league with a Sith Lord and Sle'fey wanted to know who it was. And they didn't care who they hurt to find it out."

They both could hear the heartbreak in his voice and the way he was staring out into the growing black. Qui-Gon murmured gently, "Tharten taunted me with it. Did you find out who it was?"

"At least the hag is dead and by my hand." A final stab of fury, swirling in obsidian-reds and smoke, sprayed across the Force and then it melted into grey shame.

His eyes blinking back grief, in a voice so low that it seemed more vibration than mere words, Obi-Wan rasped out, "I raped her mind. Tharten's mind. While she was dying, I shoved myself into hers and she fought me all the way. Her screaming from the pain and yet I kept going." His hand scrapped hard across his face, the fingertips coming away wet, and he frowned down at them, puzzled. "I kept going…."

Atel looked back to see Qui-Gon's shocked face. His blue eyes were glazed with uncertainty and a kind of horror. "Padawan?"

Quite ordinarily as if he were talking about someone else far from the Temple and a stranger, Obi-Wan said slowly, "No, not your Padawan. He would never have done such a thing. Padawan Kenobi was unsullied, clean." He was still looking at his hands with revulsion and a bewildered disbelief.

By now, Qui-Gon had regained his equilibrium and, with all the sure strength of a lifetime of training - Jedi or otherwise, he said sternly, "You must stop this. You are not thinking clearly."

Obi-Wan agreed, shrugging his good shoulder. He sounded normal, but within the Force, he was surrounded by shadow, despair and anger and a kind of self-loathing that went planet-core deep. "No, I'm not, not thinking clearly at all. I tortured her and I knew it and yet I would do it again."

Atel could hear the alarm in Master Jinn's voice. "Obi-Wan, you are hurt and still confused from last night. Give yourself some time to regain your balance."

"Balance? I doubt if I will ever find balance again." Pushing himself upright, his face white with anguish, he faced them both squarely. Looking from one to the other, catching their gazes with his own, his eyes faded into a dull grey but he seemed calmer, more in focus.

As Obi-Wan spoke again, his voice shook a bit and then cleared into certainty. "But at least I found out the truth of it all. No matter what games the Council may have played, what they planned or expected over the years, they can do nothing now. They have lost." His jaw clenched for a moment as he looked away, back up toward the now lighted spire of the Jedi Council. "The Sith have risen again and they have control of the Republic, over the Jedi, over everyone."

With appalled grief in his eyes, Obi-Wan said, "And Chancellor Palpatine is at the heart of it. Palpatine is the Sith Lord."


	57. Chapter 30: Hard to see part 1

**Chapter 30 - Hard to see, the Darkside is**

**Part 1**

Something was wrong. Something had been wrong all day.

The Force was full with smoldering shadow. Ordinarily, Sidious would have reveled in it - the flashes of agony-red, the despair of those who had lost hope mixing with undernotes of confusion and melancholy, the crescendo of foul pleasure as pain and grief stained the currents. Someone had died, someone with a great deal of Force sensitivity and it was oh so very satisfying. It had all the delicious diversion of an innocent being tortured to death.

Sidious would have rubbed his hands in triumph if not for one small thing. In amongst the smoky tatters of darkness, there were also glimmers of light in the Force, not the corrupt blue explosion of darkside energy but clear, honest radiance. It was a trivial irritant, but nevertheless of concern.

Then there was the other problem. As he had prepared for departure to the Outer Rim to meet with Tyrannus, he had expected that rsshak fool, Tharten, to notify him of Jinn's death. It was likely that it had been Jinn's demise that he had felt in the Force but he needed to be sure.

Admittedly, he would have enjoyed destroying Jinn with his own hands, but alas he would have risked discovery. Better to have a subordinate take all the liability and he reap all the reward.

He did envy Tharten her task, though - the delicious pleasure of drawing out that pathetic fool's agony, pulling sheets of suffering from his flesh, spattering red pain across the walls, making sure that he vomited out his death in throat-tearing screams. She had the perfect opportunity to kill someone that she had hated for a very long time and he expected that she had used the time well.

However, she had not contacted him and that was tiresome. Of course, it was conceivable that she had been caught but unlikely. More of concern was the distinct possibility that she had betrayed him. That was almost to be expected; after all, the Sith deal in betrayal as a matter of course. But she had been trained as a Jedi and sometimes the early mind-warping dogma was difficult to eradicate. If she had sided with the Order in this matter, it could be a problem.

It was a minor one at best. There was little the Jedi could do, trapped as they were by the laws of the Republic and their own ideas of 'selfless sevice'.

Besides, Tharten did not know who he was, did not know that Darth Sidious was really Supreme Chancellor Palpatine. He had hidden his identity well.

From behind him, on the spacious desk of his office, a soft chime pinged and then pinged again, signaling an incoming transmission for the Supreme Chancellor. Growling at the possibility of further delay, Sidious was about to cut off the annoyance when he saw who was calling - not Tharten but that pompous grub-worm, Zaros.

The man might be an insignificant insect but he had his uses.

Sidious smoothed his red robes, settled into the wide-backed seat and composed himself into Palpatine persona. Genial smile, grandfatherly-blue eyes, the picture-perfect leader of the Republic, and then with a wave of his hand, he opened the link.

The image was startling. Zaros, the overdressed buffoon, was never less than immaculate - his cravat studded with jewels, his hair flawlessly coiffed, the finest of shimmersilk tunics, immaculate until now.

Palpatine tried not to laugh. It was clear that the bureaucrat had been in some kind of altercation. His hair was sticking up on one side of his head, refusing to lay flat even though Zaros kept patting it down and his clothing was rumpled. He looked thoroughly flustered.

Putting on his most concerned face, astonishment in his voice, he said, "Representative Zaros, are you well?"

"Supreme Chancellor." The man sputtered a bit as he tried, without success, to straighten his tunic. "It is those damn Jedi. I'll have you know that they are a menace to society. I have a good mind to resign from this job and go back to Chandrila where I am treated with more respect."

"Master Zaros, please do not even consider the possibility. I've always thought that your work as Jedi Representative is so very important to the Republic and it is key to the workings of this government." Palpatine nodded, putting on a show of concern for the simpleton. "The Jedi have been recalcitrant of late and it grieves me that they remain unwilling to help the Republic in these troubled times. But you have helped stabilize the situation. We need you."

The man flushed pink, accepting the compliments with a tilt of his head and another tug on his tunic. "Supreme Chancellor, I thank you for your support but it is not good news. They treated me abominably, keeping me locked up in one of their _smaller_ rooms while they conspired among themselves." He sounded horrified.

"Locked up, you say. And _conspired_?" Palpatine allowed his face to show mild dismay but beneath the surface, he was surprised. This was an unexpected development. Conspiracies could be useful and he would certainly twist them to his advantage but he needed more information and this irritating clerk insisted on being coy. Trying to keep the irritation out of his voice, he said, "Who would do such a thing?"

The answer was even more troubling. "The Jedi Council."

Palpatine's thoughts immediately turned to Sera Tharten. She had missed her deadline much to his annoyance, and now the Council was locking up the Senate's representative. It would seem that Tharten has some backbone after all.

Zaros was getting more energetic as he grew more furious. Incongruously, his mussed hair was bouncing about as his hands rose and fell with his story. "That Bothan, Sle'fey, was the worst, yelling at me to shut up. He has the nerve to tell me that my services were no longer needed. And they didn't even let me know that there was a meeting as they are required to do. Just started it without me."

Palpatine could almost admire the Jedi Master for putting the little bureaucrat in his place. In his quieter moments, he had often thought about how enjoyable it would be to slowly skin Zaros alive, prolonging the agony with pain-enhancing drugs, and listening to the bloody screams as he gurgled out his last breath.

But this news was odd. Sle'fey was not known for defying the Senate's wishes. Indeed, he was often the first to enforce their edicts and he always sided with Tharten. The Bothan was beginning to show audacity and strength of will and that was a surprise.

However, it could be the start of a powerplay between Sle'fey and Tharten for leadership of the Order. Or it could be a signal for something that he had expected for quite some time now - the refusal of the Jedi to accept further dismissals, and perhaps a willingness to fight back on issues of money and support of their work from the Senate.

He would need to consider it further but not at the moment, not with Zaros looking at him expectantly. Palpatine knew he had to play to his audience. Drawing back, he sputtered, "This is unacceptable. You represent the Republic. They should not be treating you with so little respect." Frowning, he asked, "Did Master Sle'fey say why?"

Zaros grew thunderous. "No. But they were discussing Jinn. The Council seemed to be in an uproar about it."

Again Jinn was at the heart of it. The man had been a mastermind at thwarting his plans, even when he had no knowledge of them. Rescuing Jedi trash from certain death, organizing the Bendu to help the poor and unfortunate, spreading his powerbase by using compassion and public service to gather support for his causes, opposing the slave trade from which Palpatine garnered a great deal of money and control - the Bendu slime-toad had been relentless.

Destroying him was not enough. Although he was likely dead, Palpatine wanted to smash his family into blood and entrails, savage his Bendu group and everything and everyone he had ever loved.

If Tharten had failed to kill him, slim though that the possibility might be, he would make sure that Jinn did not survive the week, even if he had to do it himself. He would not make the mistake of letting subordinates handle something so important again.

Trying to keep the hate out of his eyes, Palpatine slowly shook his head. "And where was Master Tharten in all this? Surely, she was present. As head of the Council, her voice should have carried some weight."

"She wasn't there. Xacor told me later that she was ill." Zaros shrugged off the question, unsure or perhaps uninterested in where Tharten was hiding. "At least, he had some sense, unlike that animal, Sle'fey. The Bothan idiot kept spouting nonsense about letting Jinn go. That he was innocent." He threw up his hands in the air, his voice rising shrill. "Ridiculous."

Ridiculous, indeed. This was troubling news. Palpatine said sharply, "Innocent? I am surprised. Master Tharten assured me that the evidence was incontrovertible."

Zaros nodded, an intense frown deepening the lines in his face. "I believe that it is but Sle'fey keeps prattling on about data crystals and some nonsense about corrupted files. But they refused to say anything more about them. It was really quite absurd."

"Surely, you were able to make them see reason. The Senate will not accept something of this magnitude to be swept aside so easily." Not that it would make much difference with Jinn dead but it was the principle of the thing.

"I protested. Vehemently. But the Bothan said that he was a guardian of peace and justice." The bureaucrat snorted loudly, rolling his eyes. "Forgive me, Supreme Chancellor, but I laughed in his face. It was too much, really."

"Yes, yes. I see that it was upsetting to you." Palpatine leaned further back in his chair, his hands clasped before him, looking thoughtful and concerned.

Zaros was growing more agitated with every word. "Sle'fey said that they weren't taking commands from the Senate any more. And then they hustled me out of the room and locked me up. Without any food or drink, I might add. I have never been treated in such a way in all my life. Quite beyond belief."

Then the pompous insect stopped his tirade and stood there, a little man glowing blue in the transmission haze, waiting for sympathy - one thing the fool would never get.

So it would appear that the Jedi were unhappy with the status quo after all. Sle'fey would never do this on his own. He was too much of a coward.

But Palpatine needed to make this news seem more urgent. Refusing to obey the Senate over money issues was one thing; the people of the Republic could even sympathize with the problem. But disobeying the laws and giving the appearance of a revolt, enough to overthrow the government, could be much more useful. It could push his agenda back on track. The Jedi had been much too mild in their acceptance of a shrinking Order up to now.

Sharpening his voice in dismay, Palpatine said quickly, "This news is most distressing, Representative Zaros. It sounds like the Jedi Council has gone collectively mad. It could even be called _rebellious_."

Zaros took the bait. He seemed positively terrified by the idea. "That's what I thought. Those abominable Force powers of theirs unleashed. How would we be able to stand against them if they do try something? Without an army to back the Senate up, they could easily take over."

However, although the idea of rebellion needed to be nurtured a bit, it would not do to allow it to spread too quickly. The hottest flame burns out too quickly. He needed a long, slow fire, one that would consume all in time.

Sitting there, Palpatine said carefully, "How indeed? But are all the Council members in agreement? Surely there must have been a voice of reason among them."

Zaros snorted again, sounding even more derisive. "Most of them just sat there, mouths open like great sucker-toads wasting valuable air. Useless, the lot of them. Master Zacor tried to placate Sle'fey but it was no good. That white-furred slime just kept ranting on."

"It may be that Master Sle'fey's time on the Jedi Council will be coming to an end. Madness must have taken hold of his senses."

Nodding in satisfaction, Zaros settled down a bit, admitting, "Well....I must say that Master Xacor was most apologetic when it came time to get around to releasing me." Swiping at his unruly hair, he said, "That Xacor fellow was much more appreciative of my efforts with the Council. He told me in confidence that Sle'fey had been acting strangely over the past several months and that he thought Sle'fey was trying to take the Jedi in a new direction, with him at the head of it."

"A reasonable man, is Master Xacor?" Palpatine said mildly.

Sneering at the thought, Zaros ground out, "As much as any Jedi could be reasonable. Sle'fey had been less than appreciative of my work with the Order, and in the last wave of dismissals, he looked almost furious. But Master Xacor managed to calm him down." Nodding, he said, "Yes, he would be very helpful in keeping the Jedi in line."

Bowing his head in a gesture of acceptance, Palpatine said, "This discussion has been most useful, Representative Zaros. I will certainly take your concerns under advisement but I fear you need to rest after your ordeal." As the bureaucrat looked as if he were going to interrupt, he said, "No, no, I won't hear of you doing another thing today. Your service has always been exemplary but never more so than now. I will contact you tomorrow and we will discuss our options with the Jedi."

Blinking in surprise, looking very much like a shaak caught in the headlights of a speeder bike, Zaros said, "Of course, Supreme Chancellor. Of course." He bleated plaintively, "But what of the rebellion?"

Palpatine tried to look solemn. "It was all a misunderstanding, I'm sure. But we will keep our eyes on it, just in case."

At least the little fool understood dismissal when he heard it. "I appreciate your time, Supreme Chancellor. I await your call." And with one final pat to his unruly hair, Zaros's image winked out.

Turning his chair around so that he could look out over the city, Sidious sat back and scowled. In the distance, the Temple was softly glowing against the backdrop of Coruscant's evening sky; it seemed a fortress of light to the naked eye.

Damned Jedi scum.

It would seem that the Force had guided his hand again. His plans for meeting with Tyrannus would have to wait as he dealt with this latest change to his plans.

It was about time. He had begun to wonder if the Jedi had any backbone at all. Allowing the Senate to dismiss wave after wave of Jedi knights with nary a whimper, all because of their outmoded idea of 'selfless service', was disconcerting. They hadn't complained when the Senate closed the other Temples or cut back on food, and other necessities of their miserable existence. They hadn't even tried to mind-trick Zaros into forgetting all about this latest dispute; it would have been easy enough, weak-minded fool that he was.

Useless lightside worms, all of them.

He needed their rebellion. It would push the Senate to make even more cuts. It would alert the teeming billions to the plague of Force-users and turn popular thought from Jedi as guardians of peace and justice into dangerous traitors.

It would force the Jedi into more and more dangerous positions until they had no support in the Republic. And then he would strike them down, all of them.

He would start with Sera Tharten.


	58. Chapter 30: Hard to see part 2

**Chapter 30 - Hard to see, the Darkside is**

**Part 2**

Mace Windu was worried.

It had been three days now since Qui-Gon had been arrested and taken away to the Jedi Temple. The lawyers for the Bendu had worked feverously to try and find out what was going on with Jinn but without success. It was as if he had disappeared.

They had the transport records. Kenobi, his troubled Padawan, and Qui-Gon had arrived on Coruscant without incident, but once inside the Temple, there was no news at all. Even his mysterious contact in the Order remained stubbornly silent.

This was not good.

He could not even reassure Le'orath about her husband. The look on her face every time she called him was daunting but when he had no news, her haunted eyes only grew bleaker. She had tried to be brave but he could see how much the effort cost her.

Qui-Gon's son, Ben, wasn't doing much better. Le'orath had told him that Ben had disturbing nightmares, scenes of torture and flame, screams that cut into him and left him shivering and terrified. The last time he'd seen the young one, the four-year old had looked pale as death and kept blinking back tears. He had not strayed from his mother's side for a moment, holding onto her tunic with a shaking, white-knuckled grip.

Le'orath didn't know what to do with her son. Force-blind, she wasn't able to comfort Ben in the way Qui-Gon might have. Her physical presence and the warmth of her embrace weren't enough, Mace knew, but she was also very stubborn. All motherly concern, she had insisted on handling it herself.

For the moment, he was willing to let her have her way. She needed to regain some control of her life, and he wasn't about to take that small comfort away from her. However if the dreams continued, Mace might have to insist on helping her whether she liked it or not. If nothing else, she would know that she wasn't alone and might realize that Ben needed help with his abilities.

It was too bad his wife, Adi, was still away with the younglings at Otah Gunga. She might have been able to get past Le'orath's defenses but she wouldn't be back until next week. But if the situation remained unstable, he would be sure to send Adi over to the Jinn farm when she returned.

Rubbing his head to push away the headache that threatened behind his eyes, Mace looked out of his window into the darkness beyond. It was late, past the first hour, and he still had work to do.

Two of the moons were up, bathing the courtyard in a silvery glow. Beyond he could see tree branches swaying in the wind. The scene was usually soothing, especially in the moonslight, but there was so much to do now that Qui-Gon was no longer at the Sanctuary. He hadn't had a moment's peace since that day.

Besides, Mace had his own problem - Anakin Skywalker.

As if on cue, he heard it, a sharp grief-stricken howl. The sheer terror of it echoed down the hallway, but Mace knew it would continue for a while longer. Ben wasn't the only one with nightmares.

Hurrying to Anakin's side took but a few moments. In the moonsglow, he could see the sheen of sweat on his face, the mouth pulled back into a snarl. His arms were flailing about, clearly fighting something in the dream. He looked as if he were in terrible pain; the Force was ringing with it, chaotic twists of darkness pouring in and out of his skin.

The small whimper sent a chill down Mace's back and he quickly sat down on the young one's pallet, deftly avoiding the fists, trying to shake him awake.

With a cry, Anakin sat up, his breathing harsh and rapid in the darkness, and Mace could see tear tracks on his face. For an instant, he thought the teen would fight him or else burrow into his arms for comfort. Then Anakin seemed to realize where he was and who he was with and he froze.

"Master?" he murmured, his face still half-panicked in the moonslight.

"I am here, Anakin. It was just a dream," Mace said softly. "Take a deep breath and let it out. It was only a dream."

With that, Anakin sent a scowl in his direction and then straightened, one hand scraping across his face, smearing tears and sweat. He was trying to look dignified and failing miserably.

"Master..., "he stopped, swallowing hard and then tried again, "Master Windu, don't. We both know that it's no dream. The Force is telling us to do something before it is too late."

Trying to keep his tone calm and even, he murmured, "Anakin, it's already too late. You must accept that Qui-Gon may not be coming back."

Defiance glittered in Anakin's eyes, and grief. "Then why is the Force sending me these visions? Master Qui-Gon's in pain. He may be dying and we are just supposed to sit here, doing nothing." Shaking his head, he hissed sharply, "I don't believe you. How could you let him go like that?"

He could see that Anakin was lashing out, foisting his fear onto the nearest target. Qui-Gon might have allowed it but he would not. Frowning down at the angry young man, Mace reminded him, "We've had this discussion before. There was no other choice."

It had no effect. If anything, Anakin grew more upset. "There is always another choice."

This was not acceptable behavior. It was clear that Anakin was unhappy with his decision but it was the only one Mace could have made at the time. His tone stern and final, he said, "Apprentice Skywalker, enough."

Glowering at him, Anakin sat back, his eyes narrowing, his jaw set, his fisted hands trembling with effort. But he was silent.

Letting out a long breath, releasing his frustration into the Force, Mace warned, "Sometimes it is important to listen to your feelings but as a Bendu apprentice, you know that the Force must come first. Qui-Gon has told you the same thing many times." Gentling his voice, he asked, "Has there been any indication that you should go to Coruscant?"

For a moment, he thought that Anakin would lie. He could feel the undercurrent of desperation and the need to do something, anything, in the young man; it was almost overwhelming. He had to admit that it was difficult for him as well and he'd had many years of training in letting go of his own desires and following the Force instead.

"No," Anakin grumbled, looking away. The rest of it caught between gritted teeth, "No, the Force wants me here."

He was telling the truth at last. Until now, the apprentice had always maintained that he should have gone with Qui-Gon. Perhaps this time, there would be some answers. "Any idea why?"

"No, but I feel as if I'm being ripped apart." Anakin looked almost ashamed for a moment and then he seemed to turn inward, seeking answers. "I want to rescue Master Qui-Gon...," he swallowed hard, "very much, but my visions of him dying are mixed in with Naboo somehow."

"Describe them. I may be able to help you." But when the young man shook his head, clearly unwilling to talk, Mace said, "Anakin, you are not thinking clearly about this. The visions may be a warning in the Force, not for Qui-Gon but for the Bendu." When the young one looked up in surprise, he reminded him, "Visions are often confusing. They might be taken literally or as something entirely different. If not approached carefully, they might bring on the very thing you fear the most."

Glaring at him, Anakin snapped, "This had nothing to do with the Bendu. I saw Qui-Gon in pain, trapped." Then his voice dropped to a horrified whisper. "Tortured."

As the words stumbled into silence, Skywalker sat there, arms wrapped around bent knees, shivering in the shadows. He seemed very far away.

In the Force, Mace could see the smoky tendrils of Anakin's despair moving like shrouds in the currents; the air seemed to clot with the copper tang of dried sweat and old blood. It was colder, too, in the darkness.

Mace shuddered in sympathy but this was too important to let go. "Anakin, what exactly did you see?"

Skywalker's face was chalk and charcoal as he leaned into the moonslight, frown lines etched sharp and raw. His eyes, too, were dark with remembrance. "Fire surrounded Master Qui-Gon, his hair in flames and he was screaming as his flesh bubbled away in the heat." Muttering softly, half to himself, he said, "Master is afraid of fire. I don't know if you know that but he always has been. His greatest fear and he was surrounded by it."

Anakin drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to center himself. "He was with Kenobi. Both of them surrounded by clouds of red blood and fire, always fire. Master's skin was falling off, melting in the heat. I could see the muscles underneath and they turned into charred bits of cooked meat, the bones sticking through. There was searing pain, not just the flesh burning away but a sharp quick thrust of something that turned his belly into agony. I felt it. The pain was unbelievable."

One hand fisted against his stomach as if to will away the torment. Anakin's other hand absent-mindedly brushed at his face, the skin gleaming wet in the shadows. Blinking, he didn't seem to notice what he was doing, just stared off into some unknowing distance, caught in the memories.

Mace said softly, "Was Kenobi with him then?"

"No, no." Anakin shook his head, still remembering. "As I stared into Master's face, his mouth opened wider and wider as he screamed. His eyes were red with blood but as I watched, his face melted into Le'orath's. She was terrified, blood on the floor and she was trying to crawl away from the flames. Fire again. She was screaming about running away and I saw... I saw...." He leaned forward, curling in on himself and buried his face in his hands.

Mace moved to sit next to him, one large hand brushing against Anakin's back, making soft circles of comfort. With much sympathy, he murmured, "Take a deep breath and slowly let it go, young one. And take as much time as you need."

"Yes, Master." Ragged attempts to follow his advice, the sound of slow, deliberate breaths was harsh in the darkened room. But after a few moments, Anakin was calm enough to continue.

"I saw a face in black and red, yellow eyes full of hate and a red saber like fire. I couldn't tell where he was or what he was but he was surrounded by a wall of flame, heat and light and death. There was death everywhere. Piles of dead bodies, some without hands, the mounds of flesh writhing as they melted into bone and blood, turning into mountains... like the ones near Master Qui-Gon's house. Little Ben running into the night and Master again, still slick with agony and the heat of a lightsaber burning through him."

Shivering, Anakin turned to face Mace. "I tried to reach for him, to rescue him. Anything to save him from the fire. I had almost gotten to him when you woke me up."

Mace did not know what to say. The vision was indeed powerful, full of dread and terrifying images. It could well be that it was an echo of what Qui-Gon was experiencing in the Force or something entirely different, perhaps Anakin's fears for his Master or a warning to be wary. Since the teen knew of Qui-Gon's problems with fire, it could color his viewpoint. But the mixture of flame with Qui-Gon's wife and son was very troubling and he recognized Anakin's description of the black and red-faced being. Not for the first time, he wished Yoda were there.

"I am unsure of its meaning, Anakin. I will meditate on it and we can discuss it further tomorrow." Mace tried to sound convincing but the teenager must have heard the uncertainty in his voice.

"But what about Master Qui-Gon? He's in pain." The apprentice was scowling again, pushing for his own solution to the problem, trying to get Mace to agree to go rescue his Master.

Mace was growing tired of this argument. "You don't know that."

Stubborn as a bantha, Anakin growled out, "He's in pain."

"We will not be rescuing Qui-Gon in the near future. Put it out of your mind." This child was sometimes thoroughly engaging, compassionate and energetic and sometimes he was just annoying. Why Qui-Gon allowed this, Mace could not fathom. "I want you to meditate also. The image of Le'orath and Ben is disquieting. And the face in black and red sounds like our mysterious Jedi killer." When Anakin shifted impatiently, he said, "I think we should visit with the Jinns tomorrow. See how they are doing with Qui-Gon away."

"But Master Windu...."

There was a tired whine in the boy's voice that fractured Mace's patience at last. He said flatly, "I will see them alone if you continue on this course."

Anakin stilled at the reprimand. Biting at his lip for a moment, he lowered his eyes and said quietly, "I would like to see them also. If it is permitted."

Sometimes, the boy just made it so difficult. With a short nod, Mace said, "Good. Now get some sleep. You have a full day tomorrow and so do I. We'll talk in the morning."

As he stood up and moved to the door, he looked back to see Anakin still sitting there, looking out into the moonslit night. Skywalker seemed lost, a sheen of fear crowding his spirit.

There wasn't much more that Mace could do but turn and walk away - and try not to think about the fact that Anakin and young Ben weren't the only ones having nightmares.

A demon face in black and red, the dark figure standing firm in a pool of blood.

The Force was warning them. Something was coming and it dealt in death.


	59. Chapter 31: Dejarik players part 1

**Chapter 31 - Dejarik 101 - Players in motion**

**Part 1**

"And Chancellor Palpatine is at the heart of it. Palpatine is the Sith Lord."

The impossible, inevitable words - of Sith Lords and Supreme Chancellors, of a Republic gone rancid under a monster's fists - dropped into astonished and utter silence.

Obi-Wan finished choking out the truth and then slumped back into the bed and let the pain wash over him. It had taken everything in him to tell his old Master and Atel of Palpatine's triumph. But now it was done. He'd sacrificed his life, his duty, his spirit to the Jedi Order and to the Force and he'd been repaid in blood and betrayal. It was over.

He had nothing left to give.

Staring out of the viewport into the glowing night sky, ignoring the beauty of the cityscape and the glittering, never-still traffic overhead, he refused to look at the two people he loved most in the galaxy.

He couldn't bear to see the horror on Qui-Gon's face or hear Atel's denial. Their reactions to this absurd little reality would have made it final somehow and he couldn't accept one more blow or else he would fall into pieces. Perhaps he already had and he just didn't know it yet.

Closing his eyes, trying to avoid touching the currents of the Force already defiled with icy clots of Dark, trying to ignore all the horrors he'd committed in the name of the Jedi Order, still the bitter memories twisted in Obi-Wan's gut. He was drowning in it, profane black ooze seeping into his skin, pouring into his lungs with every breath he took. It was death and despair and the loss of hope and around him, through him, in him, there was only darkness.

"Obi-Wan, are you sure?" The husking voice of his Master was soft with doubt.

He wanted to laugh at such a question. Did Qui-Gon think he would make up something so insane? Did he think that he would spread lies about the Supreme Chancellor and risk everything and everyone if he wasn't sure?

Obi-Wan curled inward, husbanding the pain. He didn't want to think, to feel, to do anything but curl up and sleep. If he was not believed, it would all be for nothing.

Qui-Gon must have felt his anguish. "Let it go, Obi-Wan. Release your anger into the Force and things will become clear again."

A gentle hand stroked his hair and Atel echoed the words, "Master, please listen to him. We'll find a way to make it right."

They didn't believe him. That was obvious enough.

Opening his eyes to glare at them both, he shook off her hand and all but snarled at them, "Don't patronize me or treat me like some wayward child."

His Padawan looked hurt, glancing lightning-quick at Qui-Gon and then back again at him. "Master, you've been wounded. You need to rest and regain your strength. Perhaps later we can discuss...."

"Don't think you can just sweep this away." He flung out one hand toward the glowing tower in the viewport, an accusing finger pointed straight at the Council chamber and then pulled his arms around his chest, grunting at the movement. The ache blossomed in his shoulder but he reveled in it, too. The pain meant he was still alive. "They hid their petty little agendas behind platitudes and exploitation and it only drove them deeper into the trap." He turned back to bristle at their horrified faces. "Palpatine is the Sith Lord and nothing - not denial or finding balance or releasing anger will change it. If you can't or won't believe me, then I'll just have to deal with him myself."

As Qui-Gon and Atel both started to protest, from the entryway a voice range out, "Well said, Knight Kenobi."

The air seemed to freeze as Master Sle'fey stepped into the room. For a single heartbeat, no one moved. It was almost as if time itself wanted to hold back and keep the future from careening headlong into the present.

Then the moment shattered.

With a growl, Obi-Wan tried to launch himself at the Bothan, his hands scrambling to untangle his legs from the bedding and throttle Sle'fey, but he was held back by Atel's firm grip. He snarled at her, "Let me go. He's responsible for everything. He deserves to…."

"Obi-Wan, stop this." Master Qui-Gon shouted over the din. "You'll reopen your wound. Stop!" When Obi-Wan continued to struggle, ignoring him, Qui-Gon forced himself up, getting out of bed and trying to hobble over to Atel. But after only a few steps, he swayed, his legs giving out and he collapsed to the floor, panting.

"Master Jinn," Atel cried out. She looked as if she didn't know what to do - keep Obi-Wan from Sle'fey or go to Qui-Gon's side. But her words penetrated through the red haze in Obi-Wan's mind and he stilled.

"Atel, help him. He'll start bleeding again if he doesn't get back into bed." He all but spat out, "Damn fool."

In all the madness, Obi-Wan had not seen him but Master Xacor was close behind Sle'fey. Now the Councilor hurried to Qui-Gon's side, and with gentle hands, carefully helped him up and supported him back into his bed, away from the fracas.

Obi-Wan sank back into the bed, confused, furious, and shamed. He knew he had no chance to pay Sle'fey back for all he'd done, not while he was on the brink of exhaustion and hampered with his wound, but the opportunity to wrap his hands around that Bothan's neck again had been too tempting.

Now looking down at his fists, the skin pulled so tight that his hands seemed almost translucent, he wondered just how dark he had become. The loss of control horrified Obi-Wan, but what was worse, that it had felt right. He had wanted to destroy Sle'fey in that instant, send him back into the abyss for what he'd done to Qui-Gon, to the Order, to his life.

This was insane. Even as he was thinking about what he'd almost done, he knew it was wrong. He needed to regain his center. Qui-Gon and Atel had had the right of it. He needed to let it go before he drowned in hatred.

Atel must have realized that he wouldn't try to attack Sle'fey again, that his fury had died back into self-loathing. Her hand withdrew, and with a worried frown, she looked over at Qui-Gon and asked, "Master Jinn, do you need a Healer? Have you reopened your wound?"

Nodding to Master Xacor in thanks, he stared at Obi-Wan for a moment before turning to her. Obi-Wan twisted away in shame but could still hear Qui-Gon say, "No, Atel, it seems to be all right. My strength isn't what it was a few days ago. Blood loss." A pause and he could almost feel the worry in Qui-Gon's voice. "See to Obi-Wan. His shoulder may have worsened in the struggle."

Staring out into the night, Obi-Wan shook his head, saying sharply, "I'm fine."

For another long moment, there was silence. Obi-Wan didn't need to see to know that Atel and Qui-Gon were sharing a look of exasperation mixed with concern for him. The Force was stained with it, but more than that, he could feel approaching danger. The sensation was slithering under his skin and setting his teeth on edge. Something was going to be demanded of him, something he wasn't sure he could handle it without shattering. He desperately needed time to meditate, to come to grips with his own darkness, to find the Light again. But it would seem that time was running out.

He heard that detested voice, Sle'fey's sly-smooth voice, say, "I am relieved to see that both of you survived Tharten's attack. Your sacrifice will be honored among the Jedi, especially yours, Master Jinn."

Still out of control, still furious, still in core-deep need of regaining his center, Obi-Wan turned back to glare vibroshivs at the Councilor. "What do you want, Sle'fey? All this talk of honor and sacrifice is a cover for something. What is it?"

Wringing his paws, his fur whirling with emotion, Sle'fey said, "You must believe me. I never wanted to use you this way but Master Tharten was so focused on you that it was easier to...."

"You never stop, do you? Never stop trying to manipulate everyone into doing what you want and you sit there, letting others do your dirty work and you remain pure and oh so noble." Obi-Wan stopped, his throat choked with memories.

From out of the corner of his eye, he could see Qui-Gon and Atel exchanging worried looks but he ignored them as Master Xacor stepped forward, "Knight Kenobi, he is telling you the truth. We had thought to bring you into our circle when this first started but felt it would be too dangerous to do so. You would have acted differently around Tharten. We…."

"And you are no different, Xacor, following him around like a boar-wolf, using people to your own ends. How many have died because of you both? How many?" Obi-Wan remembered Bant's young face and the faces of all the others who were sacrificed over the years - hundreds of them. And for what, political gain? The battle between good and evil?

He wasn't sure any more. He wasn't sure of anything.

"Knight Kenobi...," Sle'fey was speaking again, all soft tones and exploitation, "Obi-Wan, you must listen to me."

If looks could kill, the Bothan would have been a red pool of blood and bones. Instead, with all the loathing he could muster, Obi-Wan spat out, "You are a lying, corrupt rsshak slime. I will never believe you again."

Sle'fey nodded, seeming to accept the rebuke. "I deserve your contempt for everything I've done to you, but nevertheless we need your help, yours and Master Jinn's."

When Obi-Wan sent him another glare, the Bothan hesitated, glancing at Xacor who just shook his head. It looked like the two of them were contrite. Whether that was truth or more manipulation remained to be seen.

Sle'fey continued, "Darth Sidious is bound to be suspicious by now. The Temple is in lock-down, although we have continued to act normally once outside the Temple to avoid drawing attention."

"And you want our help." Obi-Wan's voice was cold enough to freeze most of Coruscant.

Master Xacor spoke up, "Sidious targeted Master Jinn for some reason. Tharten was very clear on that. If we don't do something, he's likely to try again."

It sounded all so reasonable but Obi-Wan couldn't believe them. He didn't dare.

"This time we had some information as to who was working for him, Tharten and her followers. Next time we may not be so lucky," Sle'fey pointed out.

"You are really quite a manipulative, little...," Obi-Wan snarled.

Qui-Gon interrupted, "Padawan, he's right. Sera Tharten said that I'd angered Sidious. That he wanted me dead." Shaking his head, he said thoughtfully, "The timing was odd, though. I would have been more vulnerable once outside the Temple and yet she tried to kill me while the Council was in session."

Sle'fey said, "He may have his own timetable. I know that Palpatine was scheduled to go on a fact-finding mission in the Outer Rim area today but he canceled it at the last minute. Rumors were flying that he was going to meet with Count Dooku, the Separatist leader, maybe broker a treaty with him. The Count's power has been rising in the area and there have been rumblings of war between the worlds aligned with Dooku and the Republic."

Obi-Wan refused to listen. "You want something. You always do and it's everyone else who has to pay the price." The price was too high, even now and yet all he could say was, "What do you want, _Master_?"

Sle'fey didn't even blink at the rebuke in Obi-Wan's voice or the disrespect. "We've found evidence that he'd been ordering the deaths of former Jedi for some time. Also through intermediaries, bribing or blackmailing or killing Senators or former Senators who refused to accede to his demands. Dozens of illegal activities ranging from slaves to the spice trade to diverting weapon systems to the Separatists. Small and large scale. Tharten was quite busy making sure he'd not be able to move against her once she'd taken over the Republic. She had many files." He sounded almost bewildered. "Fool that she was. A Sith Lord was not someone to defeat so easily."

"You have what you need, then. The rest is none of my concern." But Obi-Wan knew there would be more. There always was.

Sle'fey didn't take long to point it out. "It is your concern, yours and Master Jinn's. Sidious wants him dead. My guess is that he'd like you gone as well. Your association with Master Jinn condemns you." When Obi-Wan just glared at him, he explained, "We need to get Palpatine to come to the Temple. We can arrest him here, away from the Senate or his guards. Surrounded by Jedi Masters, he should be relatively easy to subdue."

There was an inelegant snort and then Obi-Wan spat out, "And after that? Are you going to kill him, too? Like I did Tharten?"

"We have enough evidence to condemn him in the courts. Force-suppression and isolation in our most secure cell should be enough. Killing him is a last resort although execution is a possibility if the courts so rule."

Sle'fey sounded certain but with Obi-Wan's continued dismissal of the plan, Xacor spoke up, "You know that, Obi-Wan. A last resort only. That is the Jedi way."

"Now why don't I believe you? Either of you." He couldn't think why they would expect him to trust them again. There were too many times when he had and they'd taken his trust and turned it into desecration.

"It's imperative that we neutralize him and to do that, we have to trap him somehow." The Bothan hesitated, his eyes flicking to Qui-Gon and back to Obi-Wan. He looked almost ashamed. "We will need bait to draw him in."

"Bait again." He was growing tired of this. He could not keep the loathing out of his voice. "Used like a piece of meat and then tossed aside when you have what you want - power and the Temple under your command. And how many more lives are you going to destroy in your lust for control, Sle'fey? How many?"

Obi-Wan decided that it was better to explain it, clearly, decidedly and perhaps then they'd finally realize that he would never cooperate. "Because I refuse to do it. I've had enough of your games. Now leave and don't come back."

"You are not the bait, Obi-Wan." Sle'fey hesitated again and turned toward Qui-Gon, the Bothan staring at his Master with melancholy eyes. "I'm sorry but it has to be Master Jinn. He's...."

"No! I absolutely forbid it."

He wanted to throttle Sle'fey for suggesting such a thing, especially after all that had happened. But Atel was there, pressing him back down again, prattling on about wounds and regaining his strength. He shook off her hand, saying "Qui-Gon, don't listen to him. He's lying."

Obi-Wan knew that his old Master might just accept such a burden. It sounded all so reasonable, so much of a sacrifice to the greater good. To bring down a Sith Lord, one who had been the reason for so much destruction was a great and necessary task but Qui-Gon was not bound by duty to this. He was wounded and weak. He had sacrificed enough.

But he should have known better. Qui-Gon said softly, "Obi-Wan, I think we should hear him out first."

Twisting around to face his old Master, he snapped, "You are a fool if you expect anything but treachery from him."

"Thank you, Master Jinn," Sle'fey said. "The Jedi Order is deeply in your debt."

Qui-Gon frowned at him, "Don't thank me yet, Councilor. Obi-Wan is right. I would be a fool to trust you after all that you've done but the Force is working in this. I will listen."

"Don't do this, Qui-Gon, don't." Obi-Wan husked out the words, a half-whisper, a breath of defeat. He already knew that his old Master would not heed his warning, not when the Force was telling him otherwise. There was danger and death ahead; he could feel it in the murky currents. Only the slimmest of hopes glimmered in the darkness and yet the Force was urging them into a final confrontation with Sidious.

His Master said what he always said, what he always would say until the day he drew his last breath. "I will do what I must, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan buried his face in his hands. Qui-Gon's decision might have just condemned them all.


	60. Chapter 31: Dejarik players part 2

**Chapter 31 - Dejarik 101 - Players in motion**

**Part 2**

Darkness soaked into the Force like spilled blood, black and thick and rich with portends.

Darth Sidious stood at the viewport of his vast office, staring out into the never-still night, and drew in a deep breath. He could feel the dark energies coalescing, the shadowy futures narrowing into paths he and the Sith Masters before him had so carefully designed years ago.

The end was coming. He could almost taste it.

Turning toward the glowing towers of the Jedi Temple, looking at that unsullied vista in the distance, he could not help but smile at the irony. They were bringing about their own destruction, appearing to be pure and noble of heart those purveyors of peace and justice, and yet the nertl-slime were harboring darkness in their midst. No matter what road they chose, they were doomed.

Yet there was a slight problem in all this and Sidious had to admit that it was unsettling. There was still no word from the Jedi Temple. Indeed, his secretary had been trying to reach the Council for some time without success.

The scum would have to answer him and soon. They could not snub the Supreme Chancellor for long, not without serious consequences. Their appropriations were up again in the Senate Oversight Committee and when the members of that _august_ body heard that he'd been ignored, it might be enough to get the Senate to accept additional dismissals and further fund reductions.

It might also silence some of the Senators who had objected to the last set of sanctions - not that it mattered. His super-majority made it almost impossible for anything to pass into law without his approval. The few protesters, those pathetic insects, would soon know what it was to oppose him. The list of those begging for destruction grew longer every day.

Sidious had to admit that he was becoming impatient, though. The final act of this holodrama was about to begin, years of planning and manipulation and death but it had not been enough, not nearly enough to satisfy him. He longed to cut the Jedi down, to destroy every last one - those weak compassionate fools, to shred their bodies into meat and entrails and let the hawkbats fight over the decaying corpses until there was nothing left but brown stains and bone.

But tiresome as it might be, he knew he had to wait until they were few and helpless before he could strike. It would be soon though, and then it would be a glorious orgy of torture and death. The ultimate destruction of his hated enemy, the Jedi Order, was almost at hand.

However, there was a small matter of Tharten's part in all this. The Council's reaction to that buffoon, Zaros, was of little concern, almost laughable. They were playing right into his hands with their feeble attempts at rebellion; their reactions would only fuel the fire that would consume them in time.

But Tharten had not contacted him. Even knowing his wishes, she had thought to defy him.

Or was it betrayal?

It didn't matter what she had done. Unlikely as it was, she could have told the Council about Darth Sidious, about her connections with a Sith Lord. But she had no knowledge of his true identity and even if she had found out somehow, it was of no concern.

Being a Sith was not a crime, even if they did stumble across the truth. Legally they would have no say in the matter. He could even claim that they were maligning him, trying to impugn his honor and bring down the Republic by attacking the Supreme Chancellor and his office.

Enjoying the malicious pull of skin across his mouth, feeling utter contempt for those who would think to oppose him, he smiled at their folly. The Jedi were doomed either way. He was looking forward to their final eradication.

Taking another deep breath and letting it out slowly, he turned to ponder his other problem, Darth Maul.

That damn fool apprentice of his was late with his report. This was insolence.

When Maul returned to Coruscant, it was plain that he would need to be chastised for this - thoroughly chastised. Vibroshivs were always a useful tool and a layer of Naboo sea salt pushed into the wounds and left to bubble there would add just the right amount of prolonged agony. Maul did scream most beautifully. It would serve him right; this audacity of his apprentice demanded no less than the most inventive torment.

Just the thought of those choked cries made Sidious feel better.

There was a soft chime and he looked over to see that Maul had finally answered. He waited a heartbeat, then two more before turning on the comlink.

The Zabrak was kneeling, seemingly penitent. His apprentice might be an animal but he understood keeping his Master waiting was not wise.

Sidious took his time, sauntering over to his desk and sitting down, brushing off a few microscopic particles of dust that had dared to settle onto the mirrored surface. Then staring unblinking at the image, his voice low and full of malice, Sidious said coolly, "Lord Maul."

Flinching back ever so slightly, apparently recognizing the promise of torments to come, Maul lifted his head. "My Master, I have reached Naboo and begun to eliminate the Bendu scum as per your orders. The first of the killings is now complete."

His eyes narrowing in threat, Sidious glared at his apprentice, and after a long pointed moment, asked, "Was there a problem?"

Swallowing hard, Maul growled out, "No, my Master. The destruction of the vermin took longer than expected." As he continued, he grew confident again. His mouth was gleaming pleasure-wet and his yellow-stained eyes glowed with satisfaction. "But it is done."

Sidious leaned back, pressing his fingers together. If some of those mindless Senators had been present, they would have seen their Supreme Chancellor giving careful consideration to the problem at hand but he knew Maul would understand the gesture; the Dark Lord of the Sith was _unhappy_. "Longer? That is unlike you, boy."

At least Maul was not a blind fool. He rose up, standing there with arms folded, staring at his Master, feral eyes turning into slits, almost daring Sidious to do his worst. He must have known that his fate was sealed no matter what he said or did.

After all, over the years, Sidious had learned to take great care in drawing out long, wire-fine agony, eagerly watching his victims shriek themselves hoarse as they begged for death. But begging only meant that they were still alive. And alive meant that there was more pain, more wanton pleasure to be drawn from the screaming meat under his control. Merciless, inventive and thoroughly knowledgeable from years of experience, he knew just how far he could go before his prey drowned in their own blood.

Maul had been his most useful subject: strong, willing to learn even at the price of agony, hatred growing with every session until it seemed that the universe was filled with it.

Sidious knew that it was only a matter of time before his apprentice tried to kill him. He was looking forward to the attempt.

"The Bendu had a double-bladed saber and was well trained." The black-red tattoos stretched as Maul bared his teeth, sneering amusement. "She screamed long and hard when I gutted her." Then he waited a heartbeat before he said, "Master."

So his apprentice thought the time for rebellion was close. Foolish pup. Trying not to smile at Maul's audacity, he said, "Tread carefully, boy. My temper grows short with your insolence. See that you remember your place or I may have to give you additional lessons in that regard."

"Forgive me, my Lord." Even the apology was slow in coming.

Things were looking up. It had been a while since an apprentice had dared to attempt assassination. Sidious remembered his last. The agony had resonated in the Force for days after his death.

"Send me her hand and the saber. I will add them to my collection." Maul should have known better than to think he could succeed in overthrowing Sidious. Killing is a fine art and one that required just the right touch. His apprentice never understood that gouging out bloody entrails was not the same as getting the victim to cut its own throat.

Maul's brutality was useful at the moment but once they had succeeded in destroying the Jedi, Sidious would need to find a new apprentice, one with more finesse. But for now, he merely asked, "And the reaction of the Force users?"

"They scamper like slet-beetles when the hive is destroyed." Maul's face twisted in derision, then bowed his head, and let his hands fall to his side, seeming to acknowledge his submission to Sidious. "I left her body on the far side of Naboo. As you predicted, they have sent operatives to investigate the murder, leaving their Sanctuary unguarded."

"You see, my apprentice, how easily they are distracted." Sidious let himself enjoy the moment. His plans were going well.

"I still have much to learn, Master." Maul bowed with all obvious contrition. Sidious knew that it was only pretense. Although he had also played this game with Darth Plagueis before he'd killed the old man, Sidious was much more adept at false humility that Maul could ever be. "I will reach Jinn's farm tomorrow, gut the harlot and her whelp and then return to Coruscant...,"his apprentice hesitated, "unless you want me to kill Windu."

Sidious thrust his face forward, almost into the blue-hazed transmission. With venom in his throat and slitted eyes, Sidious spat out, "Do not ask again. Windu will be dealt with in time but not by you." Maul flinched back, his eyes blinking terror for a moment before he regained control. "I will not be pleased if Windu dies in the next few days. Am I clear on this?"

The toad sounded almost humble. "Very clear, Master."

But Darth Sidious was not fooled. His apprentice was becoming more of a liability by the moment. "Good. Contact me when you are on route back to Coruscant. We will have much to discuss when you arrive." He said, slowly, distinctly, "Lord Maul."

Reaching over and cutting the transmission, Sidious sat back and pondered what he would do next.

This was not Maul's usual style. Ever since he'd visited Tyrannus on Geonosis, he'd been not a little insolent and more sure of himself than in times past.

Sidious was certain they were conspiring against him. Tyrannus was the bigger threat but Maul had his uses. Separately or together, they could be an obstacle to his plan for domination of the galaxy. However, he had already planned for their eventual demise. He merely needed to begin putting his strategy into motion.

But he would not stand for this presumption from Maul. His apprentice needed to be reminded of his place. Prolonged agony and just the right touch of hatred would bring him back into line; perhaps Tyrannus could use a reminder as well.

When he had taken care of Tharten and her followers, it would be time to look for another apprentice. Among the Jedi scum there were few worthy of being a Sith but one stood out. Kenobi was disgustingly lightside but he was strong in the Force and a fine swordsman. And the last time he'd met him, the Knight had been exhausted and not a little angry; there had been a touch of delicious darkness polluting his spirit.

With Jinn dead and the Temple in upheaval, Kenobi might be a possibility, an appropriate candidate to mold into a Sith. He would have to probe further, capture the man when he was most vulnerable and torture him until he accepted the darkness as his own. Kenobi was strong enough and stubborn enough to last a long, long time under agony's torment.

He looked forward to the challenge.

And absurd as the idea might be, if the man dared refuse the honor of becoming a Sith, Obi-Wan Kenobi would end his days in a fiery ecstasy of pain and desecration.

Either way, Sidious would make sure that Kenobi screamed - beautifully.


	61. Chapter 31: Dejarik players part 3

**Chapter 31 - Dejarik 101 - Players in motion**

**Part 3**

It was much later that the Jedi finally dared contact him. Palpatine had used the time for some of his other pet projects - to push them forward with a deft touch here, a soft word there or threats when necessary. The Jedi were his most important but not his only concern. But as the night wore on and still no word from the Temple, his hatred had swelled and then ebbed into satisfaction. The fools were making it all too easy to obliterate them.

Now in the blue-hazed transmission, he could see Xacor, idiotic head of the Jedi Hunter's Group, and Sle'fey, the fool who had dared tell that buffoon Zaros to leave the Council chambers, standing there, both of them shivering with apprehension. Pathetic weaklings.

He was going to enjoy this.

Glowering at the images, Palpatine sat back in his chair and then waited a few seconds before huffing, "I am not used to _waiting_ for the servants of the Republic to contact me. My secretary has been trying to reach you for some time."

Sending a pointed look toward the Bothan, Zak Xacor turned and bowed deeply toward Palpatine. As he straightened, he said softly, "Our most heartfelt apologies, Supreme Chancellor. We meant no disrespect." His hand moved slightly as he glanced dagger-stares at Sle'fey.

There must have been some message there because the white-furred beast stared at Xacor, and then turning toward Palpatine, sketched a hasty bow.

Palpatine's eyes narrowed as he looked from one insignificant insect to the other and back again. There was a long, long pause and, then sharp and clear, he snapped, "But you have done so. Representative Zaros was most emphatic. He was highly insulted by the treatment of the Council and you in particular, Master Sle'fey. Insults to one of our representatives are an insult to the Republic."

Glaring at them both, he enunciated each word slowly, "As... well... you... know."

Sle'fey's fur was whirling with emotion, his muzzle pulled back into a snarl. The Bothan Master was clearly angry about something and it looked like Xacor held his leash - at least for the moment.

As he watched them both, Xacor turned slightly, and almost out of Palpatine's visual range, furtively tapped one finger against the top of his other hand again.

He recognized it as one of the many subtle gestures used by the Jedi and this one meant 'Obey'; he pretended not to notice. It would not do to have the Jedi realize that he could read their primitive signals as easily as they. He did wonder, however, why Xacor was not using mind-speech with the other Jedi. Perhaps, the two were at such odds that it was impossible.

Whatever Xacor's hold over the Bothan scum, it was effective. With obvious reluctance, Sle'fey muttered, "I offer you and I will offer him my most profound apologies, Supreme Chancellor. I was under a great deal of anxiety and Representative Zaros unfortunately felt the brunt of it."

"That is most distressing to hear. Representative Zaros is the eyes and ears of the Republic on the Jedi Council and to treat him so abominably does not speak well of the Jedi or your commitment to our lawful government."

He did so enjoy manipulating the fools. Xacor looked as if he was drowning in worry and Sle'fey's fury was palpable through the soft haze of the transmission. Even the Force was poisoned with their desperation.

Palpatine put a deliberate edge to the angry whine in his voice, just to nudge Xacor's apprehension closer toward nova status. "He indicated that the Council would bar him from future meetings. This is unacceptable."

He watched as the Jedi squirmed and tried not to enjoy it too much. Besides he'd found, over the years, that beings often made mistakes when under severe stress; the Force and his own experiences were telling him that he needed to know the truth about what had happened in the Temple. These two insects were ready to collapse at the slightest hint of trouble.

What else could he expect? Anyone with courage had been culled out of the Jedi Council years ago.

The Zabrak cleared his throat and explained, "Master Sle'fey spoke out of turn, Supreme Chancellor. He no longer speaks for the Council in such matters." He sent the white-furred scum another glare and then looked properly contrite when he turned back to Palpatine.

"Indeed?" It was becoming increasingly difficult not to laugh in their faces but Palpatine made the effort.

"Yes, Master Sle'fey has requested of the Council that he resign from his current position and serve the Jedi in other ways."

Xacor and the Bothan beast exchanged heated stares and it was surprising to see Sle'fey turn away first. While Bothans as a species were notoriously sneaky and foolishly courageous at times, Jedi training had all but erased Sle'fey's heritage. Now he was nothing more than a simple, power-hungry bureaucrat, someone willing to do just about anything to stay in a position of authority.

Palpatine wondered what Sle'fey had done to lose his place among the Jedi. Berating an over-dressed fop, even the Senate's representative, wouldn't have been enough. There were many possibilities, most of which he could turn to his advantage but he needed more information.

"And quite rightly so." Playing on his role of unhappy Chancellor, Palpatine scowled at the pair. "Council members must have the utmost respect for the Republic and those who work for the greater good."

"It was unfortunate that Representative Zaros had to witness some of our internal problems but he is certainly welcome to return at any time."

There it was - internal problems. It would appear that their treatment of that rat-faced Zaros was merely a symptom; the Jedi Council and perhaps the Jedi Order itself may be starting to fracture into squabbling factions again. They had done so ten years ago when the first of the dismissals had become a reality. Unfortunately, after a while, the pathetic Jedi had slipped into resignation.

Palpatine had to admit that it had disappointed him at the time; fighting among the Jedi would have only weakened the Order and brought them down that much sooner. Now, perhaps, he could help to widen the conflict again.

"I am glad to hear it, Master Xacor." A heartbeat of silence and then, as if confused, he said, "Internal problems?"

"Ah, forgive me, Supreme Chancellor. I did not want to bother you with something so insignificant." The Zabrak was clearly nervous. He kept clenching his hands and sending furious looks at Sle'fey.

"Let me be the judge of its insignificance, Master Xacor."

Palpatine made sure his voice had just the right touch of restrained anger. There was clearly something going on and he wanted to know what it was. He wanted to drive the simpletons into making mistakes, hopefully into cracking under the strain, and from the look that passed between the Jedi, it appeared to be working.

"I...." Clearing his throat, Xacor started again. "Supreme Chancellor, there were disagreements as to who would lead the Jedi Council. But the matter is now resolved, sir." After another uncomfortable pause, he said, "Although we will have Representative Zaros look over the changes and we will, of course, follow his recommendations."

Palpatine could taste their fear; the Force was contaminated with it.

So the problem was a simple matter of squabbling fools, staking out territory. Little did they know that their pitiful world would come crashing down around them in a few months, maybe less. The irony was exquisite.

It took all of his acting ability but he was able to keep a triumphant smile off his face. "And what did Master Tharten have to say about all this?"

If anything, the beings in the blue-tinged transmission seemed to shrink further into panic. Master Xacor hesitated and then stammered out, "Ah... that's... unfortunately the reason why it took so long to respond to your inquires, Supreme Chancellor. There has been an incident."

Until now, Palpatine had thought the darkness he sensed was due to the pitiful machinations of these pathetic bureaucrats to garner power as they back-stabbed their way into strength. But the currents of the Force were churning, a black jumble of destruction and spreading chaos. Something was amiss and he'd be a fool to ignore it.

"An incident? Of what nature? Why isn't Master Tharten here to discuss this with us?"

The Jedi both flinched at his harsh question, the trifling slet-beetle scum sharing a look of desperation.

Sle'fey started to speak but Xacor cut him off. "She was attacked while interrogating Qui-Gon Jinn. He...," the insect was sweating and his eyes kept darting everywhere except into the holocam as he said, "he stabbed her with her own lightsaber. She has since died of her wounds."

It did not happen often but Palpatine was stunned speechless.

So the useless grub-worm was dead - stupid enough to be gutted by her own saber and at the hands of Jinn no less. How truly ironic and not a little irritating. Now he'd never have the pleasure of hearing her scream as he pulled her heart from her body or see the bright red of spilled blood or savor her last agonies in the Force. He had been looking forward to it, too.

"Died!?" Finding his voice, letting his anger bleed free, he thundered, "Jinn murdered her? How was he able to do this? Are your guards so incompetent as to leave them alone?"

"Supreme Chancellor...," Xacor was whining terror, almost tripping over his words as he hurried to explain, "Sir, we have holocam recordings that show that she brought a vibroshiv into the cell with her. The guards claim, and I have proof to back it up that Master Tharten had ordered the guards to stand down. After that, the recordings blanked out, but by the time the guards realized something was wrong, she was already dead from saber wounds. Jinn was also bleeding badly from a vibroshiv blade which we later found in the cell." He slowed to a stop and stood there, eyes wide, looking like a nerf about to be slaughtered.

"Is he dead?"

He tried not to let his eagerness seep into his face or his voice. It wouldn't do for these inept fools to know just how much he wanted that blood-sucking Jinn destroyed.

"No, Supreme Chancellor. We were able to stop the bleeding and he is now resting under guard in the Healer's ward." Xacor hesitated. "He claims that she attacked him and he only defended himself."

Not dead - his enemy was not dead. It was clear Palpatine had made a critical error when he'd assigned Jinn's destruction to underlings.

He would need to gut Jinn - personally.

The problem was how to get the Bendu slime away from the Jedi. They would certainly want to punish him themselves but their idea of revenge was pitifully inadequate - a few years in a penal colony and meditation exercises. What Jinn needed was a long lesson in wire-fine agony, perhaps some experiments in pain-enhancing drugs coupled with neural whips and saber burns.

He'd heard that Jinn was afraid of fire; Tharten had found some old records about feedback experiments and had gifted him that information a while ago. Perhaps playing with his mind might be in order as well. He'd have to give it some thought. It would certainly sweeten Tharten's failure.

"Do you believe him?" Palpatine said sharply.

"No, of course not. He's a rogue Jedi. We are handling it. As per Republic law, he will be tried by the Jedi Council and when found guilty, sentenced to twenty years in a penal colony." Xacor seemed to be trying desperately to placate him. "Force-suppressed, of course."

Did these _Jedi_ think that he didn't know the law? He had written the damn things, had intermediaries to push them through the system, and had made sure that the loopholes were there for his exploitation.

"He murdered the head of the Council! Life in prison isn't good enough for him."

Leaning into the transmission, Palpatine frowned outrage at the Jedi. But secretly, he was savoring the moment; it was rare that he allowed himself the luxury of naked anger. Usually, he had to balance the dark energies with the games he played. But even here, he had to be careful. It wouldn't do for the Jedi to know how much he was looking forward to killing Jinn himself.

Putting his hands flat on his desk, Palpatine snapped, "He should be executed."

"We are not allowed to...."

Palpatine cut the Zabrak off. "The Republic makes exceptions for criminals of this sort."

Xacor let out a relieved sigh, his face breaking into a smile. "Supreme Chancellor, I am very glad to hear this. The Council was uncertain whether they would be able to execute a murderer under the law, even one who had butchered the Head of the Jedi Order. We did not wish to be seen taking matters into our own hands without clearance. It sets a bad precedent."

The Councilor continued, "The Council is most eager to see justice done. We have been in session for over an hour, discussing the how and why of his impending execution but we had not thought that the Senate, or frankly you, Supreme Chancellor, would accept it. This is wonderful news."

"And why would I not accept the execution of a murderer, Master Xacor?"

"Well, Jinn is a hero on your home planet of Naboo. We wouldn't want to make it uncomfortable for you, considering your steadfast support of the Jedi Order over the years." Xacor looked as if he wanted to reassure himself as much as Palpatine.

Before he could say anything else, Sle'fey twisted around, grabbing onto Xacor's arm with his paw. "I can't believe you are talking of killing Master Jinn. He hasn't had his trial yet." Snarling at the other Master, he said, "He doesn't deserve execution. It was self-defense."

The Zabrak jerked back, out of Sle'fey's reach. Glaring at him, Xacor snapped, "You don't know that. All we have is his word and we know how good that is."

It was almost amusing to watch the two Jedi arguing. All this talk of Jinn's execution was ironic considering that he was indeed innocent. It would be interesting to see if the Jedi were courageous enough to do the deed but unlikely. Besides, he needed to know more about what was going on at the Temple. An argument was usually a good place to start; so much could slip out in heated conversation.

The white-furred beast growled, "Tharten was up to something, something big. If you had only let Jinn talk."

"Councilors, please. Do your posturing on your own time," Palpatine snapped. Then leaning back, his fingers intertwined, his face arranged in a thoughtful frown, he said, "Master Sle'fey, so you think Master Tharten was acting inappropriately, do you?"

The Bothan Master was pathetically eager. "Supreme Chancellor, she was after Jinn for some reason. I have proof that she planted evidence to make Jinn look guilty, guilty enough to warrant death. If you go through with the execution, you will be murdering an innocent man. And we'll never find out why she wanted him dead."

"And why should we believe someone who was trying to take over the Jedi Order?" Standing there, hands on hips, Xacor looked so much the typical holodrama hero that Palpatine was having a hard time holding in his contempt.

"I was trying to protect the Order from her manipulations. Surely, you understand this, Zak." Sle'fey was curling and uncurling his paws and his fur was swirling with emotion.

Xacor was having none of it. His eyes blazing, he drew back and scowled at Sle'fey. His voice was space-cold. "I only know that you almost succeeded in your plot to make yourself Head of the Jedi Order. Luckily the rest of us understand how the Republic works even if you do not. We are servants, doing the will of the Senate and the Chancellor's office, not independent operators following the Force alone."

"You are wrong, just as you are wrong about Jinn." The Bothan was shaking his head again.

But Xacor only seemed to grow more adamant. "If the Supreme Chancellor thinks that we can execute a guilty man within Republic law, so be it. He deserves his punishment."

"The darkness is coming, Zak."

"He killed Sera Tharten. What more do you want?"

Palpatine swore that he could see a tinge of yellow in the Zabrak's eyes. Better and better. It might be possible to play Xacor's anger into something he could use.

But before Sle'fey could say anything else, Xacor said flatly, "Look, Trest, you need to wake up to the political realities of the matter. If we don't punish Jinn to the fullest extent of the law, we will be seen as weaklings. It would prove disastrous for the Order if we don't kill him." He shrugged at the look of horror in the Bothan's dark eyes. "Besides, he's already admitted that he did it - self-defense or not."

"This is insane." The Bothan's fur was whirling, a clear sign that he was disturbed. "I'll take this to the Senate. I'm sure the Naboo delegation will file an objection in the courts. And we all know how long that can take. At least, Jinn will be able to defend himself in a fair and open trial." Sle'fey's muzzle was pulled back into a snarl. "We need to know what really happened in that cell."

This was a problem. It was possible that Tharten let some things slip out in her dealings with Jinn. The Bendu hasn't had a chance to tell his side beyond the claim of self-defense according to Xacor - as yet. But once he has time to recover from his injuries, anything he learned would become public knowledge.

Jinn had to be silenced and soon.

At the same time, it would not be in his political interest to show any eagerness for revenge. The Naboo delegation could make it uncomfortable; Jinn was one of their Heroes after all and that irritant, Amidala, was a friend of his. She was as tenacious as a boar-wolf once she got her teeth into an issue. Luckily she was back home, negotiating with miners about living conditions or something else equally unimportant.

Palpatine waved the objections aside. "Unfortunately, Senator Amidala is off-planet at the moment. I'm not sure when she will return and the rest of her staff are unlikely to help you at this time."

Before Sle'fey could protest further, Palpatine smiled, saying, "Councilor Xacor, I must admit that I am surprised and pleased at your willingness to see justice done so quickly. Usually the Jedi use a slow stodgy approach and the Senate Appropriations Committee has been unhappy with the Order's results of late. This will go a long way to placate some of the Senators' objections."

"Chancellor, you can't be serious. He may be innocent. You...."

The white-furred fool was open-mouthed in disbelief. It was really quite amusing to see. But Palpatine needed to play the part of annoyed Chancellor for a bit longer.

"Master Sle'fey, you do yourself no good continuing with this argument. Have a care or you may find yourself among those in the next round of dismissals later this month." Leaning forward, looking at the blue-tinged transmission and the pathetic figures cowering in the haze, he frowned displeasure. "Am I clear on this?"

Sle'fey flinched back, his dark eyes flicking between Xacor and Palpatine, looking as if he wanted to find some pity there and realizing there was none. Finally, he bowed his head in resignation and murmured, "Yes, Supreme Chancellor, abundantly clear."

Xacor spoke up, "Supreme Chancellor, if you can come tomorrow at 1500 hours to the Jedi Temple, Master Tharten will be honored with the lighting of her funeral pyre. After that, I believe that we can offer you justice, swift enough for the Senate."

The Zabrak insect stood there, eager and pathetically obvious; it would seem that he was hoping to garner support for his rise to Head of the Jedi Council. He had shown that he could be both ruthless and servile and willing to do almost anything to remain in power - a useful trait in a pawn.

Palpatine had need of pawns, at least for a little while. It would be amusing to push Xacor into helping to bring down the Order now that Tharten was dead. Zabraks were so very good at pain management.

Less amusing was the realization that he would not have the pleasure of making Jinn scream after all. The savage sounds as he tore into Jinn's flesh, the gurgles as the grub-worm's throat shredded and he drown in his own blood - this would have been almost payment for all of the petty annoyances Jinn had put him through - but it was not to be.

If the Jedi were willing to kill Jinn, much as he wanted to do so personally, it would be more politically expedient to let them have their way. Sometimes one had to give up the ecstasy of torturing another in order to further the Sith agenda. At least he'd be able to watch him die.

But as he opened his mouth to accept, something halted him. There, in the Force, was a warning; a trap was hidden somewhere in the future, a light in all that putrid darkness, danger to himself and to the final Sith victory so close at hand. He would be a fool to ignore it and Palpatine was no fool.

Instead, he shook his head slowly, composing his face so that it would appear that he was mildly disappointed. "My apologies, Councilor Xacor, but I am a busy man. I don't have time to travel to the Temple, not with my schedule." Then he let his eyes brighten as he said, "I have an idea, one that will serve both the Jedi and the Senate. Bring Jinn to the antechamber next to my office at 1600 hours tomorrow. You can turn him over to the Senate guards for execution then."

Startled, Xacor stammered out, "Chancellor? Jinn is a Force-user and a strong one. He will need special handling. He's...."

Did this slet-beetle think he could dictate to the Supreme Chancellor and get away with it?

Palpatine's voice hardened. "Enough, Councilor Xacor, enough. I would have thought that you would welcome the Senate's help in this matter." When the Jedi opened his mouth again to protest, he put up his hand to halt any further discussion. "I understand the problems but I am willing to put up with a bit of unpleasantness for the sake of the Republic. However...."

He looked down at his datapad, frowning at it as if troubled by something, and then looked up to stare at the two Jedi. He said tartly, "You can either bring him to my office for transfer or execute him yourself without me present. Your choice. I don't have time to squabble with you about this. I've spent quite enough time on something so trivial when I have whole systems to worry about."

"Then your office, Supreme Chancellor, at 1600 hours tomorrow." Xacor looked unhappy but that was of little concern to him.

The Force was still churning with danger although it had lessened considerably when he had changed the venue to his office. If there was something going on, he'd be ready for it. This place had traps upon traps and all geared for Jedi hunting. He was looking forward to a little sport. Maul shouldn't be allowed to have all the fun.

If all went well, he'd have Jinn in hand by nightfall tomorrow. Then it would be simple enough to kill a few Senate guards, make it look as if the Bendu had escaped and there would be no one to realize that Jinn was actually his prisoner.

Things were looking up. He'd be able to torture the scum after all.

There was one other item - Kenobi. Soon, the Knight would need to begin the long, slow slide into hatred if he was to become his next Sith apprentice; this was the perfect beginning to that, making him watch the Jedi hand his old Master over to be killed - nerf to the slaughter.

"I am glad to hear it, Councilor. It speaks well of your duty to the Republic." Nodding, he pretended to look at his datapad, looking as if he had his mind on other things, and then glanced up again at the Jedi. "And be sure to bring Kenobi, Jinn's former Padawan, to witness the transaction. I've heard that he's been giving you some trouble of late. A bad precedent to set for the more impressionable Knights. I am surprised that you haven't punished him for it, make him understand his place in the scheme of things."

Xacor seemed surprised at the request. "He has been punished, Supreme Chancellor."

"Not satisfactorily. Master Tharten was kind enough to explain the situation. She said that his loyalty, to the Order, to the Republic, was in question. Perhaps he should be present when we deliver justice to Jinn." He frowned into the blue haze. "A test, to see if his allegiance is to the Order or to a murderer."

He waved his hand in dismissal and started to turn away, reaching for the transmission switch.

"I... yes, Supreme Chancellor. As you wish." He could hear the confusion in Xacor's voice. "May the Force be with you."

"Zak, this is...." And the blue-edged images winked out and there was silence.

Things were going slightly amiss but it was nothing he could not deal with. Tharten's death was surprising but manageable and the first cracks in the Jedi foundation were already widening. That bumbling pair, Xacor and Sle'fey, would continue to turn inward and fight among themselves for an ever-smaller power base and it might cause Jedi to side with one or the other, making for civil unrest in the Order. Pathetic fools.

At least, he'd have Jinn to torture - pleasure in the making. He'd been looking forward to trying out a few new techniques on slaves he'd been keeping for just such an occasion but now he would have a powerful Jedi under his control. He'd even be able to play with him for a while before he'd have to leave for the Outer Rim.

Of course, if Jinn lived long enough, he'd bring him aboard his ship. He could hide Jinn in one of the shielded rooms, and practice his methods then; the voyages were always so boring, otherwise. The Bendu could scream until his heart gave out and no one would hear - no one except the Force and Darth Sidious.

Jinn might even live long enough to see Lord Tyrannus again - a very intriguing thought.

Palpatine had to wonder what Tyrannus would do, choose to accept his former apprentice's demise, even help with the torment, or would he try to rescue his old Padawan. Either choice would be instructive. Not that there was really any choice - Jinn would die. But Tyrannus might tip his hand.

He would have to contemplate this further. But he had time.

And Jinn had none at all.


	62. Chapter 31: Dejarik players part 4

**Chapter 31 - Dejarik 101 - Players in motion**

**Part 4**

It was hours before Masters Xacor and Sle'fey finally returned.

They had left them alone after hounding Qui-Gon into acceptance, left them to rest and grow stronger for the coming battle. Obi-Wan had refused to say anything else. He knew that his old Master would not budge once his mind was made up and it was useless to argue with him anyway. It only led to frustration.

So Obi-Wan had settled back into his bed, trying to rest, trying to gather his strength, trying not to dive deeper into despair. Qui-Gon seemed to accept his silence. But Atel had hovered over him so much that he'd finally told her to look after Qui-Gon instead, that her smothering behavior was not helping the situation and that she was only making things worse.

There was a brief stain of desolation in the air but she had obeyed him. Taking her anxiety out on Qui-Gon, she had fussed over him until he finally fell asleep from exhaustion. Then she settled down and began to meditate.

Obi-Wan had not. He had not dared to touch the Force again. The taint of Darkness was still there, knotted in his heart, bleeding into his skin, entangling into bone and blood until he felt wrapped in desecration. He knew he needed to find his balance again but somehow he couldn't face what he'd done, not just yet.

But he needed to face it soon.

It was some time later when he heard voices beyond the door. The noise must have jostled Qui-Gon's subconscious because he woke just as Sle'fey pushed his way into the room, followed closely by Xacor. Atel, too, grew alert, blinking at the Masters from her seat near Qui-Gon's bed.

The two of them stopped just inside, looking both contrite and guilty. Apparently something must have gone wrong. It was with bitterness that he realized it was likely Qui-Gon that would pay the price.

"I assume the news is not good." Obi-Wan couldn't keep the contempt out of his voice. He didn't try.

"It did not go as planned." Master Sle'fey glanced at him, saying softly, "We have brought a recording of our discussion with Palpatine so that you can see for yourself what the situation is and how best to approach it."

One part of him wanted to be reasonable, to be the Jedi Knight he'd been for the last ten years, to be someone for whom justice and duty were as natural as breathing.

One part of him wanted to send them both to hell.

Instead he merely nodded and waited for betrayal.

Sle'fey glanced at Qui-Gon for a second, and then he laid down the transmission pad on the table next to Obi-Wan's bed and turned it on.

It was bad, very bad.

Obi-Wan watched as Sle'fey and Xacor lied and manipulated their way through the minefield that was Palpatine's own agenda. But he could also see that they were out-maneuvered at every turn. Palpatine was a consummate politician and his hand held all the sabaac cards. Sith Lord or not, the man was in charge of the situation.

When the blue-tinged recording finally winked out, for a moment, there was silence.

Face drawn in lines of outrage and desperation, his hands clenching and unclenching as if wanting to throttle the Master, Obi-Wan glared at Sle'fey. Even Atel was looking at the Bothan, her mouth open in surprise.

But before Obi-Wan could say anything, Sle'fey shrugged his shoulders. "This conversation was recorded a few minutes ago. I had hoped that Palpatine would come here where he would be surrounded by Jedi operatives. It would have made things much easier." His white fur was flattened, a clear sign that he was troubled. "Master Jinn, I am sorry that you had to be a part of this but I hope you saw just how much he wants your death."

"Yes, I saw." Qui-Gon was calm, much calmer than Obi-Wan was at the moment, as he asked, "Do you think he suspects something is wrong?"

Master Xacor's eyes were as hard as stone. "Of course. Otherwise, he'd have no problem coming to the Temple. He's been here many times. We will need to bring our strongest, most able fighters. And it is likely that he'll have traps set."

Sle'fey and Xacor exchanged glances and then turned back toward Qui-Gon. The Zabrak Master said, "Are you clear on what needs to be done, Master Jinn?"

Obi-Wan couldn't believe that they were all sitting here, in the Healer's ward, and calmly discussing an attack on a Sith Lord. Qui-Gon was still injured. It was possible for his old Master to be a little better by 1600 hours tomorrow but he would not be back to full fighting strength.

In the days before dismissals became a way of life, when he was young and foolish and naive, the Council wouldn't have even considered sending an injured Jedi Master back into a hopeless situation like this, not when there were others equally capable and healthy. But those days were long gone.

It was insane; they were all insane.

Yet the others didn't seem to think anything amiss with the idea. Even Qui-Gon accepted it. He was calmly discussing it as if it were a normal thing to walk into a Sith trap while he was injured, vulnerable. "Yes, bait. But how long must we keep up the pretense? He will surely feel if I'm not Force-suppressed and I can't fight against a Sith Lord if I am."

"We have modified some of the Force cuffs so that they will slip off as soon as you touch one of the knobs to a hard surface or if someone else releases the mechanism." Pulling out a pair of binders, with one finger, Xacor tapped at the knobs and they fell open. He explained, "The only problem is that you will be vulnerable for about 20 seconds before you will be able to use the Force again."

Obi-Wan could keep silent no longer. Spitting out fury and desperation, he was almost shouting, "Twenty seconds? A Sith Lord will cut him into pieces in a single breath." Everyone turned to stare at him. Atel tried to calm him down with quiet murmurs and little touches of her hand against his shoulder but he would have none of it.

He knew that his words would be ignored but he had to try. He couldn't let his Master sacrifice himself for these rsshak slime, not again. "Qui-Gon, don't do this. They can find another way to arrest Palpatine, one where you won't have to die in their little game."

"Obi-Wan.... "How the man could be so calm about something this final was almost beyond him. "Padawan, the Force is demanding that I go."

He knew that his reactions were still amiss, that he was still not thinking clearly. The taint of Tharten's death and his part in it was staining his spirit; he knew he had to regain control of his emotions if he were to help Qui-Gon escape this. But there wasn't time and perhaps there never would be.

He hated what he had done, what had been done to him. And he felt unclean in that hatred.

Trying desperately to come to grips with it, knowing that they would never listen to him if he didn't regain his balance, he stopped and drew in a deep breath, holding it for a moment or two and letting it out again slowly. The pain in his shoulder jangled at him but he ignored it and took in another deep breath.

When he knew he was able to speak more calmly, Obi-Wan gazed at Atel and Sle'fey and Xacor. "The Force is telling me that someone is going to die tomorrow. There. In that snake's office."

Feeling helpless, afraid that no matter what he did it would never be enough to stop the inevitability of it all, Obi-Wan turned to Qui-Gon, pleading with him, "It's likely to be you."

His old Master sent him a brief, sad smile - and condemned himself to duty and death. "Then it will be me. But we will have destroyed the Sith. And both the Bendu and the Jedi will breathe free again."

Shaking his head, Obi-Wan sank back into the pillows and closed his eyes. He did not want to look at Qui-Gon Jinn and see fate shadowing his old Master's face. He wasn't sure he could take another death and ever find himself again. It was too close, too soon, too much pain, too much betrayal. Another blow and he'd shatter into dust.

"Obi-Wan, we need your help as well. Palpatine...."

Sle'fey's voice was urgent but Obi-Wan jerked up, leaning on his good arm, staring at the being who had engineered all this. It took all of his strength not to laugh in Sle'fey's face.

"Help you? Help you when all you do is lie and manipulate everyone around you? When you use beings like dejarik pieces and then discard them when they are of no further use? When you willingly destroy the trust of those who believed in you? When you let Jedi be killed so that you could keep going with your blasted plan to get Tharten?"

Obi-Wan's voice was laced with poison. "A shining example of Jedi justice, Master Sle'fey. And with such a record, why should I ever help you again?"

"To save Master Jinn." The Bothan had the audacity to look ashamed. "Palpatine expects you there. While we focus on arresting him, someone will need to keep Qui-Gon safe. Who better than you?"

"You never stop. Always trying to find a weakness and exploit it." Anger tangled in his throat. He wanted to throttle the Bothan again. He didn't like that he felt that way but he couldn't seem to stop. Perhaps he didn't want to stop; Sle'fey deserved it, after all.

"I don't think Master Obi-Wan going is a wise idea. He's still wounded. He will be vulnerable in a firefight." Atel sounded urgent and very worried. Looking down at Obi-Wan, she gave him a nervous smile. "I'll go instead. I can handle it."

"No, I absolutely forbid it, Padawan. You are no match for a Sith Lord." He sat up, grabbing onto one arm and shaking her. Never mind that his shoulder flared in pain or that he felt unbalanced and furious again. It was vital that she not go; she was too young. She had no idea of the cruelty and sheer cunning of a Sith.

But her mouth was flat and she could be more stubborn that Qui-Gon when she thought she was right. "Master Qui-Gon is wounded and you know that this Sith Lord will go straight for the most vulnerable opponent. He will need my help."

"Not if he doesn't go. They can find another way."

Qui-Gon said gently, "Obi-Wan, be at peace. I have already made my choice." Turning to the two Councilors, he bowed his head. "Master Sle'fey, Master Xacor, I am at your disposal."

"I will go with Master Jinn and make sure he stays out of trouble, Master." Her soft voice only reminded him of past missions, of bacta and sabers and narrow escapes. He had always been there to keep her safe.

Now with Qui-Gon determined to meet the Sith Lord and help bring him down and his young apprentice just as determined to protect his old Master even over his protests, Obi-Wan found that he had no choice. Again.

"Not without me, Padawan." Obi-Wan let go of Atel and lay back down: hopeless, afraid and trapped. He stared out past the viewport, looking up into the night sky and the brilliance of the lighted Temple in the distance. "I'll go. To help Master Jinn."

He didn't need the Force to tell him that this would end in death; it was obvious that lives would be lost. It was only a question of how many and who.

"You've won this round, Sle'fey. I just hope you know what you are doing," Obi-Wan said quietly.

Master Sle'fey's reply wasn't reassuring. "I hope I do, too."


	63. Chapter 32: Consequences part 1

**Chapter 32 - The Consequences of Choice**

**Part 1**

Another stone thudded into place.

Anakin stood back, frowning down at the half-built wall. He'd been repairing the blasted thing for hours, using nothing but brute strength and primitive tools. The hand-sized laser drill had obviously been built in the last century and the other equipment was even older. The Bendu was short on supplies at the moment and everything that worked reasonably well had been given to someone else.

Windu had insisted on it.

The worst tools and the most back-breaking job at the Sanctuary - this was his punishment for attacking Kenobi. He wasn't allowed to use the Force either.

Damn the man for being stubborn as a bantha and damn the rest of them, too. He should be breaking Qui-Gon out of that blasted Temple prison of his, not building a wall that no one cared about. He should be helping the Bendu defend themselves against the Republic slime, not standing here thinking about how to fit stones together. He should be going after the demon in black and red that had been haunting his dreams, not bowing to Windu's idea of proper behavior in a Bendu apprentice.

The whole thing was nothing but poodoo.

A trickle of sweat itched past his mouth and he swiped it away, irritated. There was rock dust clumped between his fingers and a long scratch on the back of one hand, with a bright line of blood reminding him of mistakes made in the past few minutes. The heat did nothing to help his fraying temper.

It had been four days - four days of knowing that his Master was in pain, being tortured, maybe dying. It had been four days of Windu's platitudes and acceptance and his unrelenting insistence on letting Qui-Gon go to his fate without any chance of rescue.

It had been four days of nightmares and visions polluting the Force, his dreams full of fire-storm agony, trapped desperation, suffocating darkness. He'd woken up screaming every night.

Anakin Skywalker was sick of it.

Sitting down, he wiped his face with his sleeve. The afternoon had been beautiful if he'd cared enough to notice, but now the sky was growing heavy with threatened storms. Clouds were thickening and he could almost taste thunder in the air.

It matched his mood.

He'd known that he would face expulsion from the Bendu and possible a prison term if he'd tried to rescue Qui-Gon. Master Windu had threatened to turn him over the Naboo authorities if he'd reneged on his promise and tried to rescue his Master; Anakin knew that Windu meant every word.

That first night after his Master had been taken had been the hardest. He'd ached to go, but much as he'd told himself that he should defy Windu and leave anyway, even ignoring the threats of prison, the Force had made it abundantly clear that he was needed here. The compulsion to remain had only grown with time and he'd not been lying when he'd told Windu that he felt like he was being torn in two.

The problem was he didn't know why he was supposed to stay. It made no sense at all.

Bendu adepts were trained as well as the Jedi, maybe more so since they had fewer rules. They were on high alert with that damnable killer loose, too. If he were to leave Naboo and go after Qui-Gon, one less Bendu apprentice wouldn't make any difference for whatever was coming and he'd be able to rescue his Master from the Temple and bring him back to fight alongside the rest of the Bendu. Surely that was more important than obeying some kriffing Jedi edict.

He hated it - the futility of it all, the not-knowing and Windu's incessant reminders about duty and keeping his word to Kenobi. He hated it.

Looking down at the drying blood on his hand, he realized that he'd had enough - of everything. It was time to do something about it. He was going to go after Qui-Gon Jinn and nothing - not Windu nor the threat of prison nor the Force itself was going to stop him.

Starting to rise, he put one hand out, steadying himself and....

Between one breath and the next, the vision took him.

_Shadows poured over the sun, a great churning mass of clouds that billowed bloody mist. As he watched, the wall, the Sanctuary, the mountains beyond, Naboo, the galaxy blackened into night - a color so deep that it pulled in all light, all life. _

_Somewhere in the dark, he could hear a small child crying. _

_Struggling to see, watching as the black roiled and pulsed, staring as the colors of the night fought for domination, he reached for his lightstaff, hoping to turn back the darkness before it was too late. But the weapon was gone, the silver cylinder left on Coruscant when he'd tried to rescue Qui-Gon and failed. He was unarmed, helpless to stop the darkness, defeated. _

_A pair of malevolent eyes now filled the sky. _

_There was a sneering hiss and then a great bark of laughter. The black shattered and crimson began pouring out over the obsidian night, droplets flung wide like bloody stars in a dark sky - mixing, merging, melting into the demon that had haunted his dreams, a tattooed monster in black and red. _

_The killer was standing before him, all sneered contempt, his double-bladed saber moving into an infinity loop of dried blood. The searing color blinded Anakin for a moment. When his eyes blinked clear again, he could see the madman still grinning, his face full of rotted teeth and anticipation. Behind him, mountains of mutilated bodies writhed and moaned. He could almost hear them crying for vengeance. Almost. _

_But the voices merged into desperation and then into the broken sound of a young boy's grief. _

_It was Ben, calling for Le'orath. _

_Frantic, Anakin stepped forward, hoping to find Ben and keep him safe. But he was trapped in the vision, helpless, unarmed, defeated by the choices he'd made when he left Naboo, when he'd failed to rescue Qui-Gon._

_The scene changed again, color beating back the darkness. _

_He was standing by the half-finished wall. A roaring in the atmosphere and as he looked up, a spaceship, black and menacing hurtled downward, trailing flames and oily smoke in the afternoon sky, spreading shadows in its wake. It shot past the Sanctuary, so close to the ground that Anakin ducked instinctively. As he stared, the vessel changed course and streaked toward the Jinn farm. There was a shriek of overheated metal and he could smell seared meat. Malice filled the air. _

_As he watched, the soft afternoon light crystallized and shattered into dust. _

_Suddenly he was in Qui-Gon's barn, his lightstaff now in his hands, and the monster grinning at him. Anakin moved toward him, hoping to stop him somehow. His weapon was humming madly, wild discord and blue light streaking through the gloom. But there was a smear of red brilliance, then flashing agony in his right arm. As he flinched back, he could see his hand lying on the ground a meter away, still smoking, still holding onto his staff. _

_He looked down to see glowing skin and seared bone and the pain drove into him. He screamed at the agony, the sound tearing his throat. He felt himself toppling to the ground and then his belly was melted open with another stab of searing light. His voice shredded into bloody meat as pain and defeat gutted him. _

_He'd failed again. There was no one in sight. Mace Windu hadn't come with him. _

_His head swam, his eyes rolling back as he began to lose consciousness but before the darkness destroyed him, there was one last thing - a roaring wall of flame engulfing everything, a high-pitched wail that gurgled into silence. _

_And Ben was still crying. _

The vision let him go.

Anakin stood there, chest heaving frantically, drawing in air as if he'd been without it for hours. He'd been screaming, too; he could feel it in his throat and the way his body hurt. There were bloody half-moon shapes in the palms of his hands where he'd clenched his fists so tight that the nails had cut into his skin. Every muscle in his body ached.

He stumbled back, sitting down on the wall, trying to make some sense of it all. He forced himself to take several deep breaths and he let them out deliberately, trying to slow his racing heart, trying to clear his mind.

The vision had been one of futures, different ones mixed up in a way that showed him the consequences of his choices. He'd gone to rescue Qui-Gon and failed; he'd stayed on Naboo and gone to rescue Le'orath and Ben alone and without backup and failed.

He knew now why the Force had told him to stay. He was needed here. He was needed at the Jinn farm. Ben had been crying as if his heart was broken and he recognized the high-pitched agonized wail at the end.

It was Le'orath.

Ben and Le'orath were in trouble, perhaps today, perhaps now. They were unprotected at a time when the Jedi killer was on the loose. He had to talk to Master Windu before it was too late. He had to make sure Windu came with him to the Jinn farm, and pleaded, insisted, forced if necessary, Qui-Gon's family to come back with them to the safety of the Sanctuary.

Now, it had to be done now.

Before it was too late.

********************************

Anakin was never one to do things by half-measures. Dropping all pretense about obeying Kenobi's mandate or finishing that blasted wall when there were more important things to do, he ran over to the main building, desperate to see Master Windu.

He knew he'd have to convince the Bendu Champion to act quickly. It would be no small task but it had to be done and soon. Already he could feel the currents of the Force clouding with shadow. That could mean only one thing - that the killer was nearing the complex.

He could see that something was going on as soon as he approached the building. Janson and Denn and a couple of the other Agri-Corps personnel were moving equipment and weapons into speeders parked by the side entrance. Apparently, someone must have felt the same changes in the Force that he had.

Normally, a mission would be serious business but there would also be time for small talk and a few smiles before the Bendu had to leave. Now, they were working quickly - no discussion, no easy camaraderie. This was serious.

Pushing past them, he hurried toward Windu's office. He noticed that in one of the side rooms, several of the Bendu were talking rapidly to each other, checking on computer screens and vid feeds, muttering into commlinks.

They paid no attention to him as he rushed past.

Finally he arrived only to find Master Windu sitting at his desk, the calm center in a storm of activity. There was a crowd of beings around him, waiting patiently for answers. With each reply, they nodded and turned away, clearing the space for the next Bendu to ask their question.

Anakin did not have time to waste. He shoved his way forward over the quiet protests of the others. As he opened his mouth, Windu ignored his agitation, saying calmly, flatly, "Skywalker, I don't have time for your theatrics. I...."

Windu wasn't the only one who could cut through meaningless pleasantries. "Master Windu, the killer, the one I've been dreaming about. He's coming. He may be here already."

Obviously trying to maintain his temper, Windu growled back, "What do you think we've been doing? He's butchered two more and we're trying to make sure those were the last he'll ever kill. Now wait your turn."

"Two?!" Anakin realized that he might have been too late, after all. The anguish of it took his breath away. "Two... not Ben and Le'orath. Please, Master, not them."

Looking startled, Windu reached for the datapad that another of the Bendu - Anakin recognized him as one of Janson's friends - had shoved in his direction. "No, not them. The murders were on the other side of Naboo. They were discovered about two hours ago. The two Bendu had been dead for at least half a day."

He looked over the screen, nodded, apparently satisfied with what he'd read and gave it back to the man, saying, "Go to Otah Gunga. Take three guards with you and help Master Gallia and the others escort the children back here. No telling what that madman will do with innocents."

"But Master, he'd have had time to get here. It doesn't take that long." Anakin couldn't keep the horror out of his voice.

He looked around the room at the others. Set faces, eyes and sensing appendages hard with determination, a collection of former Jedi, Agri-Corps personal and newer members of the Bendu and they were all focused on one thing - capturing the killer and making sure he would never kill again.

"Master, I'm sure he's at Qui-Gon's farm," Anakin insisted. He must have caught Windu's attention because he stopped, putting down yet another datapad, listening to him at last. "The Force sent me a vision and he was.... "

"Enough, Skywalker, enough." With a sharp frown and an annoyed glare sent in Anakin's direction, Windu picked up the 'pad again, nodded, handed it back to a waiting hand and the crowd decreased by one. An older former Jedi, one Qui-Gon had known well at the Temple, stepped up. "Ranze, take Le'tzel and Hwet with you and see to the perimeters. Skywalker may be right about the killer having had time enough to reach the Sanctuary. Turn on the forcefields and lock down the buildings. Have our Tatooine guests moved to a more secure location. I don't want anything or any one to get through."

When the three men left, Anakin thrust himself forward again, not willing to be ignored. "But Master Windu, what about Ben and Le'orath? They are in danger."

The other Bendu were frowning at him, clearly unhappy with his interruptions, but Windu only took another datapad, looked at it, made some selection and handed it back. Then he looked straight at Anakin, brown eyes dark with worry, saying, "We don't have time to gather everyone up at the moment. There are several families not on site who are vulnerable, not just Qui-Gon's family. We've notified them and I've sent everyone available to escort the ones willing to come here back to this location."

Windu looked down at a flimsiplast note that had been thrust into his hands while he had been talking to Anakin, nodded and pushed it to one side. It disappeared into the crowd and one more being left the room. "Le'orath has refused, saying that she's capable of handling it."

"She's as stubborn as Qui-Gon and you know it. If we go to her, I'm sure we could...." Anakin was trying desperately to get Master Windu to see reason. He had to, for Le'orath's sake and Ben's.

"I don't have the time." Windu snapped back and then taking a deep breath, rubbing one hand across his face as if to ease some pain there, he said mildly, "I have obligations to the Bendu, to the people who depend on us to keep them safe, Anakin. This facility...."

Anakin had had enough of excuses. At the moment, all he cared about was the two people who had been almost family to him for ten years. "Put Master Ranze in charge. He's been with the Bendu and the Jedi long enough to know what to do. Or Janson. He knows more about the Sanctuary and how it's run than anyone else." Windu started to reach for another datapad but Anakin was growing impatient with all the bureaucratic poodoo. His voice rising sharp, he said, "Master, she'll ignore me but she'll listen to you. I know she will."

"I don't have the time. You have my permission to go and see if you can talk some sense into her." Windu wasn't even looking at him.

"The Force sent me the vision for a reason. The killer is at the farm or soon to be. If I go alone, I won't be able to stop him. They'll die and me with them and he'll get away again." Anakin kept getting louder and it didn't help that the Force was telling him to go more urgently with every breath. "I've _seen_ it."

"You don't know that for certain." The datapad clattered to the desk and Windu was frowning up at him, annoyed, immovable. "I have more important things to do than argue with you. You are dismissed, Skywalker." And he turned away.

"E chuta!" Anakin slapped his hand flat on the desk, a blaster shot of sound. "You are not listening. Listen!"

The room fell silent as everyone looked at him in shock. As Windu started to rise up, Anakin thrust his face forward, almost nose to nose with the Master, both of them glaring at the other. "The Force is telling me that the killer is at the Jinn farm or will be soon. You can hate me or arrest me or tell me to go to hell but listen to the Force. You are supposed to do that, aren't you? Or are you too blind with your _obligations_ that you can't see the truth?"

"I've had enough, Skywalker." Windu was as angry as Anakin had ever seen him. "Enough of your tantrums. Enough of your temper. Get out of my sight before I turn you over to the Naboo authorities and let them deal with you. Jinn was too lenient with you and this is the result. Now get out!"

Anakin jerked back, suddenly and desperately afraid that he'd blundered this beyond all repair. He didn't care about himself but if Le'orath and Ben died because of his stupidity, he'd never forgive himself. "Master, I...."

"Out!"

A hasty whisper of apology and Anakin backed away and ran out of the room.

He was cursing all the way back to the armory, angry with Windu for being so blind and with himself for not getting the Master to see reason. He knew that if he'd been more mindful, if only he'd gone about it another way, Windu might have agreed.

Letting out a deep sigh, he realized that he was only lying to himself.

Mace Windu had always disliked him and they usually fought like boar-wolves whenever they had to work with each other. He would never have agreed to anything Anakin wanted, even if it was important.

Now he'd have to go to the Jinn farm alone and try not to get everyone killed.

"Kriffing bureaucrats. Kriffing Masters with heads up their...." Ignoring the others in the weapon's room, he was rifling through the stockpile, gathering up equipment, Force-cuffs and cortosis gauntlets and a couple of blasters just in case when a voice interrupted his tirade.

"Anakin, I could go with you."

"What?" Anakin glanced up to see Denn standing there, lightstaff in hand, looking both sheepish and eager. "Denn, why aren't you helping with the equipment?"

"I heard your shouting match with Master Windu. Most of us did. If you need someone to go with you, I'll go." Denn seemed determined to appear as if he could take on a demon killer by himself but all he did was emphasize how very young he was.

"You've only just finished saber training. This rsshak slime has defeated Temple-trained Jedi and Bendu." Anakin desperately needed backup but this kid wasn't it. It would only get Denn killed, maybe all of them killed. He shook his head. "I'm sorry but I need the best swordsman in the Bendu if we are going to defeat this killer. Since Qui-Gon is not here or Master Yoda, that means Windu. If he'd only listen."

Denn looked disappointed but also relieved. He said shyly, "I think Master Windu will listen if you asked him the right way."

"I did ask him." Anakin wasn't in the mood to hear how he'd managed to foul up everything - even if it was true.

"Yes, you did but your way. Shouting and demanding and impatient. Maybe you should plead instead of demand. Begging if it's that important."

Anakin stood there, mouth open, staring at Denn. The kid had no idea of what he was saying.

Begging was for the helpless - slaves whose backs were stripped with bloody scars or children so thin that they seemed to melt away into death while crying for food or boys watching their mothers being beaten or sold away. Begging was blood in his mouth and fists raised to strike him and fear in his chest. Begging was for the desperate, the hopeless, the dying. Begging was for the weak.

"I don't beg," Anakin said flatly. He drew back, turning away, looking for the final few items he'd need before he went to face the killer alone.

"Even if it means that Qui-Gon's family might die if you don't?"

Denn was too persistent, asking things that Anakin didn't want to think about. It didn't matter, though. Windu had said no. "He won't listen."

"Maybe not to you but he'll listen to the Force." The kid didn't know when to shut up. "If you remind him."

It was impossible. Windu had sent him away. To go back now and ask, even to beg, was impossible. Windu might just blow a hyperdrive and have him arrested. At least this way, he was free to go to Le'orath and Ben and protect them both, maybe get her to change her mind before it was too late.

"Denn, I...."

But the kid wasn't listening. He was looking at Master Windu.

While they were arguing, Windu had entered the armory, and was talking to a group of beings at the far end of the room. One large hand full of datapad and the other curled around a commlink, he looked stern and clearly unhappy.

"Master Windu," Denn called out, raising his hand and motioning him over. "Master, a moment of your time."

Windu's gaze flicked toward Denn, then as he saw Anakin standing there, a sudden frown cut into his face. Nodding to the others, he walked over to them, and ignoring Anakin, said, "Denn, I'm busy. It will have to be quick."

Denn smiled up at Master Windu and then pointed to him. "Anakin has something to ask you."

The Master's eyes narrowed and he looked like he had a bad taste in his mouth. For a moment, he said nothing and then staring at Anakin, he growled out, "Did you put him up to this?"

Shaking his head, Denn said quickly, "No, Master Windu, it wasn't like that but I think you should listen to what he has to say."

His mouth flattening down to a thin line, Mace Windu glared vibroshivs at Anakin but nodded. "What is it, Skywalker?"

He knew he didn't have much time. Le'orath and Ben needed him to say the right thing, do the right thing. "Please Master Windu, I need you to come with me to the farm. The Force is telling me that the killer is there. He'll destroy them both and I won't be able to stop him alone."

He could see that his chance was slipping away. His contrite voice, his face earnest and pleading and still Master Windu was looking at him like a bug. He could almost hear Windu's reply snaking up his throat. It wasn't going to be enough.

Denn was right. He'd tried to persuade Windu his way and it wasn't going to work. There was only one thing left to do and much as he hated the very thought, their lives were worth more than his wounded pride or the shiver of memories down his back.

Going down onto one knee, his head bowed in surrender, he murmured, "Please, I'm... I'm begging you. Before you say no, ask the Force. Please, Master Windu, ask the Force."

He could feel the shock reverting around the room. The buzz of conversation died; even Master Windu said nothing.

With every beat of his heart, Anakin waited for the strike, for the sarcastic reminder that Windu thought he was nothing but trash and had always been nothing but trash, for the final words that would prove that even begging would never have been enough to get the Bendu Champion to listen.

There was a sound of creaking leather and the clearing of a throat close by. Flinching back, he dared to glance up.

Master Windu was looking down at him in astonishment and then seeming to collect himself, he murmured, "Anakin, get up."

As he slowly rose, still bewildered by the lack of scathing reply, he was even more astonished to hear the Bendu say, "I have a few minutes before the first of the families arrive. I will seek the Force's guidance but if I get no indication of a problem with Qui-Gon's family, this discussion is over. Do you understand me?"

He could only nod. "Yes, Master Windu."

"Take five minutes to clean up. I'll be in my office. Come to me when you are done. I'll have an answer for you then."

Turning away, Master Windu didn't wait for him to reply. The Bendu was already speaking into his comlink and hurrying out the door.

Anakin took him at his word - for once. Whispering thanks to Denn, he smiled and sprinted off, looking for an available speeder to put the weaponry in and then a place to wash off the stone dust and dried blood on his hand. He didn't have much time.

He could only hope that Windu would accept what the Force was going to tell him, that he was willing to let others handle the situation at the Sanctuary and come with Anakin to the Jinn farm, that he realized that the killer was there or almost there and that they had to hurry. He hoped that it would be enough.

It was exactly five minutes later when he poked his head into the office. Master Windu was sitting at his desk, eyes closed, fingers steepled. Anakin could feel the movement of the Force in the air, the taint of terror coloring the currents in black and red blood as the Master searched for answers.

When Windu finally opened his eyes, Anakin knew what he would say. "Is the speeder ready? Weaponry?"

"Blasters, cortosis gauntlets, Force cuffs. A second lightstaff for each of us. Just in case. The speeder is out front, ready to go."

He had no time for satisfaction, only relief. With Master Windu there, it might be enough to defeat the killer and save the Jinns - if they got to the farm before it was too late.

Master Windu grabbed his lightstaff and his commlink, hurried toward the door. "You drive, Skywalker. It should shave off a few minutes." He was striding down the hallway so fast that Anakin was hard-pressed to keep up. "I'll be coordinating things with Janson over the commlink. Just in case this is a wild bantha chase."

Scurrying down the stairs and jumping into the driver's seat, Anakin said breathlessly, "Yes, Master."

"And Anakin?" As he climbed into the speeder, Master Windu said sharply, "Hurry!"


	64. Chapter 32: Consequences part 2

**Chapter 32 - The Consequences of Choice**

**Part 2**

**_A/N - sorry about this!_**

* * *

The air was heavy with warning. Twisting grey clouds were billowing up over the mountains and tumbling down toward the farm, the storm moisture-laden, full of wild light and the distant sound of thunder. As Le'orath stared out the kitchen window, she saw a jagged spear of lightning hit the mountaintop and then crackle down the stony cliffs. The noisy afterburst rattled the back door; she could almost taste the ozone.

It was going to be a bad one.

She didn't know yet just how much damage the storm might do to the waiting crops but she tried not to worry. The fields were ripe for picking; a day, maybe two at most was all she needed. She'd arranged for additional field managers to come tomorrow for harvest. The droids she and Qui-Gon owned were adequate for gathering the biologicals but they needed constant supervision and she could not handle it alone.

_Qui-Gon should not have left. _

Shoving the thought ruthlessly aside, she tried to think of what to do next. There was so much. In her younger days, she would have been going full bore ahead but now with her son fractious and moody and the weight of her unborn child squirming in her gut, she didn't have the energy.

She should have been out looking at the fields, making sure everything was ready, checking on the droids, arranging for backup in case something went wrong. Why she was cooking a dinner for Ben and herself instead of attending to business was sheer madness. She should have reheated something, made the most of the time before the hectic harvest tomorrow.

Instead she was in the messy kitchen, preparing something elaborate, oil and flavorings and canisters scattered everywhere. It was something Qui-Gon would do for them, to prepare a wonderful dinner the day before harvest, and now she was doing it, just to prove that she could, to prove that she didn't need him, that she could do it all alone.

He'd left her and she'd be damned if that little fact would stop the tradition - even if it had been Qui-Gon who had started it.

For a moment, the memories threatened to overwhelm her. Qui-Gon Jinn - fool, idiot, beloved. Every beat of her heart and she grieved for him, wanted him, missed him.

_Damn the Jedi and damn him for going with them. _

A frantic shriek echoed in the house and she stopped what she was doing and listened, aching with the pain of it. She knew Ben was having dreams again. He'd been upset all day, hanging onto her tunics for hours, and she'd finally sent him back to his room for a nap. But it wasn't working. He needed sleep but his dreams had only brought him terror.

He was tired; they both were. She'd not gotten a lot of sleep in the past few days - ever since Qui-Gon had been an idiot and left with that snake Kenobi.

She was furious with her husband. Former Jedi or not, Bendu or not, Qui-Gon should have known better than to ignore all the warning signs. He should have hidden until that rsshak slime had left - Kenobi and that loathsome apprentice of his. She still did not understand why Qui-Gon had to be the one sacrificed to the Jedi scum. But he'd done the noble thing, damn his eyes, and now she was alone, fighting to keep herself from flying apart.

Another cry and Le'orath gave up trying to let Ben settle himself down. Wiping her hands, turning off the cooking unit so that nothing would spoil or solidify or burn while she was busy with her son, she started down the hallway to his room.

She didn't want to admit it but Mace Windu was right. She didn't have the experience to deal with Force sensitives, not in any way that was meaningful. She might be able to soothe hurts or send stern looks Ben's way or give him hugs enough to chase away his tears but she had no idea what to do with his visions. Qui-Gon had always handled it.

Now with that blasted husband of hers gone, it was up to her.

She had to accept that he might not come back. She had to accept that they might have to move to the Sanctuary for the time being, at least until she got her equilibrium back. After that, Ben could stay there during the day with the other children and come home at night. That way, she and Ben would still be at the farm when Qui-Gon came home - if Qui-Gon came home.

The thought caught in her throat, and for a heartbeat, she couldn't breathe for the pain of it. But then she deliberately straightened, throwing her head back, shoving the grief away. She had to stop thinking about how much she missed him, how much she feared that he'd never come back and focus on her more immediate problem - Ben.

As if on cue, she heard a whimper and her heart broke all over again. Qui-Gon had always known just what to do when Ben got like this and now all she could do is stumble around and hope for the best.

Quickly she opened his door and looked inside. Ben's room was in half-shadow, curtains drawn and a small glow lighting his bed. Although sweaty and thrashing about as though fighting something, Ben was still asleep, his little face rigid with nightmare. She sat down next to him and stroked his hair, trying to wake him up.

She didn't want to startle him. Last time he'd had a bad dream, one of his toys had flown at her head; luckily she was quick enough to avoid the blow but he could use the Force, even if it was sporadic. Thankfully this time, she didn't have to duck but as Ben came out of the nightmare, he clung to her, crying as if his heart would break.

It tore at her to see him in such pain. She couldn't ease his fears but she tried, sitting there holding him, rubbing gentle circles on his back and whispering of how much she loved him, how they would always be together.

That only made him cry harder and finally she stopped talking, humming a song from her own childhood instead.

Finally with many hugs and smoothing his wet face with her hands, rubbing his nose with a soft cloth to clean up the crying mess, she was able to get him quieted down to understand what he was trying to say.

"Mama, the bad man is coming." His eyes were huge in the darkness and he was shivering. "He's coming. We have to hide."

"Sweetheart, it was just a dream. You must have heard the thunder. There's a storm coming and sometimes it rattles the door." She frowned down at him, concern for him. She was at the end of her rope. She needed to talk to Mace and see what could be done.

Sometimes, especially now, she had to wonder how the Force could be so cruel. He was just a little boy.

"Mama, he's coming." Ben was growing more agitated by the moment. "The bad man."

"Ben, tell you what. We'll go see Master Mace, okay. At the Sanctuary." She was alarmed. He'd never been this upset before, even when Kenobi showed up. "Maybe stay overnight. The kids should be back from their trip by now. I know you'll like that."

Nodding vigorously, he jumped up, tucking his prized toy bantha under one arm, and pulled her toward the door. "Now, Mama, let's go now."

She let him drag her out toward the back, to where the speeder was kept, all the while thinking that this had become surreal. It had gone from a simple child's nightmare to a furious escape from the serenity and comfort of her home. Ben was terrified and his fear had filled her with unease.

It couldn't be real. It was only a dream, wasn't it?

Her son stopped suddenly, turning black eyes toward her. "He's here, Mama. We need to hide. We...."

"Ben sweetheart, there's no one here. I didn't hear a speeder come up." He was shivering again and frantic. She knelt down and rubbed his arms, trying to calm him. "It's all right, Ben, it's all right."

He looked as if he were going to cry again. She gave him a quick hug and looked at him very seriously. "But just in case, I'll need a weapon, right? There's a blaster in the kitchen. I'll grab it before we leave. I promise." She paused, trying to shake the sense of dread that seemed to be growing with every heartbeat.

Feeling as if some terrible thing was breathing down her neck, she looked over her shoulder for a moment. But there was no one there.

She felt off-balance. She could hear the rattle of windows and the scrape of those blasted vines that Qui-Gon liked so much beating against the house. Outside, she could see that it had darkened considerably and there was a flash of lightning close by. The boom that followed told her that they would need to leave soon if they wanted to avoid getting caught in the storm. It was coming up fast.

But it was just rain and wind and electricity, nothing more, nothing to be concerned about.

Berating herself for being so frightened over a little wind, she stood up, and sent him an encouraging smile. "Daddy says that I'm a good shot. That's how we got your stuffed bantha. Remember? My bull's-eyes at the fair?" But instead of a childish giggle, all he did was hug the toy tighter and tug at her hand again, pulling her toward the kitchen and the speeder beyond.

"Mama, now. Go now." She let him drag her, anything to keep him from becoming more agitated.

He wasn't the only one that was worried, though. Something was wrong. She could feel it.

Qui-Gon had always been fussing with her, hounding her to go with her instincts. They'd had long discussions about it but it was a Force technique and she hadn't paid as much attention as she should have. Now she wished she'd listened, wished with every fiber of her being.

"Listen to me, Ben. I don't think anyone is here but if there is...."As they entered the kitchen, she let go of his hand and went to the cabinet where the blasters and a couple of vibroknives were kept.

She found the one she used in target practice, the one she was most familiar with. Checking the blaster's charge, all the while trying and failing to keep the growing panic at bay, she said, "I'll take care of him. You stay back."

"But Mama, Daddy wouldn't. He'd help you." His eyes were huge and liquid with unshed tears.

"Yes, sweetheart but Daddy's a lot older than you and bigger, too. Besides, I can fight much better if I know you are safe." She frowned down at him, saying sternly, "Promise me."

The wind was rising fast. She could hear the windows shaking with the force of it; the front door made a kind of whooshing noise as if someone had come in and forgotten to close it. It did that sometimes during heavy storms. She knew that she should go and make sure everything was latched down tight before they left.

But as she turned back to do just that, something stopped her - Ben tugging at her hand or the cold chill shivering down her back, some sixth sense that told her things were not right, that maybe they had run out of time.

Le'orath looked down at Ben, putting her finger to her lip, indicating silence. He nodded, looking brave and so very young. She motioned him toward the back door.

There was another clattering sound near the front of the house and a soft creak of floor-boards in the hall.

She froze at that. She'd complained to Qui-Gon about it several times but he'd never gotten around to fixing them. Even the lightest step on some of the loosened boards made noise - as they were doing now.

Someone was in the house, someone uninvited.

As she backed up, she flipped off the safety on the blaster, pointing it toward the kitchen doorway - and heard a chuckle, low and mocking.

"So fierce." The voice was grating, almost husky with venom. "Little mother, you may give me some sport after all."

Shivering, trying desperately to listen for clues as to where he was, she could only hear the sharp scrap of trumpet vines thrashing in the wind and the rattle of windows. She could not even hear the floor-boards creaking any more - which meant that he was either in one of the rooms off the hallway or near the back of the house and them.

Instinctively, she tightened her grip on the blaster. "Come out where I can see you."

There was a distant boom of thunder and on the heels of it, he said, "I can see you well enough, harlot. Your pup, too. Too bad Jinn isn't here to watch his family being slaughtered." There was another low chuckle. "It would be instructive."

_Kriff, he's insane. _

Panic edged up her throat, the fear threatening to strangle her but she shoved it aside. Le'orath knew that she had to remain calm; she had to think clearly. She had to protect Ben at all costs.

She didn't have the luxury of relying on a hero to come to her rescue. Her hero had left with the Jedi. She would have to be the strong one if they were going to survive this. But she swore that if... when Qui-Gon came back, she was going to kill him for leaving them alone to deal with a madman.

"Strong words for a coward that lurks in the shadows," she shouted back. There was no response.

But when another gust of wind sent the trumpet vines battering at the walls and filling the house with noise, she whispered softly, "Ben, sweetheart, is there anyone else here? Anyone at all?"

Her son grew still for a moment and then looking up at her, hugging his stuffed toy to his chest for comfort, his little face pale and drawn with fear, he said, "No, Mama, just him. He wants to hurt us."

In some ways, that was a relief. That meant that she only had to deal with one crazed killer. She didn't think she'd be able to protect Ben if there were two. In fact, she might have problems with one. She wasn't that good with a blaster.

"Listen to me, sweetheart." She began to edge toward the back door, keeping Ben behind her, trying to keep her hand steady and the blaster pointed straight out into the hall as she eased her way back. Softly, urgently, she murmured, "When I tell you to run, you run and hide. Right away." He tugged at her tunic, trying to get her attention but she remained focused on the doorway. "Don't wait for Mama to catch up. It's very important. I won't be able to fight and keep you safe at the same time."

"Mama, no. I don't want to." She could hear the terror in his voice and the reluctance to leave her but he was just a little boy and vulnerable. She had to get him away from the threat before it was too late.

"If you don't run, you might be making it worse. Promise me, Ben."

There must have been something in her face because although he looked rebellious, he nodded solemnly and whispered, "Yes, Mama."

And then it was too late to say anything else. A sound, both familiar and terrifying, echoed in the hallway just outside the entrance to the kitchen - the distinctive snap-hiss and low hum of a lightsaber blade.

They were in trouble.

A black-clad figure, face tattooed in black and red swirls, a Zabrak from his horns, walked casually into the kitchen, a long-handled lazer-sword snarling red death in his hand.

It was the demon from Ben's dreams.

"Yes, Mama," he sneered, mocking her son's frightened reply. His yellow eyes gleamed hatred as he stared at them both.

For a moment, she stood there, stunned. Le'orath hadn't really believed Ben, thought his visions were the nightmares of childhood. She'd had bad dreams, too, when she was his age. And she'd heard Qui-Gon passing off dreams as things that faded with time.

This nightmare wasn't going to fade.

Terror was clawing at her now, and within her, the unborn child moved sharply. It was almost as if the baby could sense the evil in the room. Without thinking, her free hand rubbed circles over the swell of her stomach, trying to calm her fraying nerves and ease the pain. She was afraid enough to keep the blaster pointed straight at the Zabrak.

His eyes flicking to her stomach, his smile grew wider. "Little mother."

She tried not to tremble at the venom in his voice. She knew she'd have to be strong for Ben's sake.

He took another step toward them, twisting the saber into an infinity loop as he moved. It would have been beautiful in other circumstances, a great globe of brilliant red light, but now it only heated the air with dread.

Pushing Ben behind her, shoving him toward the door and escape, she said loudly, "Another step and I'll shoot to kill. If you leave now, I won't file charges or send the Bendu after you."

His answer was simple.

He grinned, death's-head amusement, and an instant later, his lightsaber doubled in length, turned into a lightstaff, twin blades of blood-red destruction. He spun it around again as he sauntered toward her, taunting her with his smirk and his hate-filled eyes, daring her to shoot. As he got closer, he made sure that he cut through cabinets and crockery and flooring, sowing destruction in his path. There was acrid smoke in the air and as he sliced through a vase filled with flowers, it exploded in the heat, sending half-melted shards and smoldering blossoms everywhere.

He was insane. It was also very clear that he wasn't going to give up, not even with a blaster pointed at his face. She couldn't wait any longer; it was getting more dangerous by the moment and she had to think of her son and her unborn child.

Fear almost overwhelming her, she found courage enough to shout, "Run, Ben! _Run_!"

And then she began firing, shots blazing straight at the Zabrak.

There was a blinding flash. In the heartbeat that followed, she felt the blaster bolts flying past her head and more distantly heard the sound of the back door closing. When she could think again, she realized that Ben was gone. He must have listened to her after all.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the curtains by the window were starting to smolder. The Zabrak had used his saber to deflect the energy bolts back in her direction. It was precise, too. The returned fire had not touched her but there was a halo of black smudges and burning embers in the wall behind her. Ben's 'bad man' knew how to use a lightsaber and use it well.

Le'orath realized that he must have been the one the Bendu were hunting. She'd heard Qui-Gon talking about lightsaber burns and desecration, about how the murderer had played with his victims before they died in agony, about how they thought whoever had done it was well-trained in the Jedi arts.

Now, in this moment, she had come face to face with the killer and she wasn't sure she would survive it.

Something of her terror must have shown in her eyes. Black and red tattoos creased into a smile and as he twisted his double-bladed saber around again, he said smugly, "I'll find him, little mother. Find him and gut him before your eyes."

He took a step closer, his yellow eyes gleaming with blood-hunger. "I think I'll enjoy it, too. More than I thought. He's so bright in the Force."

_Kriff._

She backed up, her blaster still pointing at him, useless though it was, and now she had no place to go. The counter was behind her and the door close but she doubted that she'd make it outside. This monster had proven he was adept at saber techniques, as fine as she'd seen from most of the Bendu. She could only assume he could use the Force as well.

She was trapped but he wouldn't take her without a fight.

Narrowing her eyes, she growled, "Not my son." Then she began firing at him again, round after round, hoping to find some gap in his defenses.

It was futile. He batted the bolts back toward her with ease, his smile widening into a macabre grin as she tried desperately to drive him away. It was almost as if he was enjoying the moment, savoring her terror.

Around her, she could hear the sound of breaking glass, the sizzling energy hitting walls and curtains and cabinets. She could smell something burning, too but she didn't dare turn around. She had to focus on the madman before her and either kill him or try to find some way to escape before it was too late.

The problem was that the blaster was starting to make a whining sound, typical of an overload but she couldn't stop now. She had nothing else, no other means of defense. Hand-to-hand techniques wouldn't work against a lightstaff and she was too awkward with her pregnancy in any case.

Sauntering toward her, snickering as she pushed her blaster past maximum, carelessly batting away the bolts, he got within a meter or so when her luck finally ran out.

The blaster gave a final off-key growl and died. For a few seconds, she kept pulling the trigger, hoping that it was a mistake somehow. Then she threw the useless weapon at him and stumbled sideways, frantically looking around for some kind of weapon, knives, jars, anything to keep him at bay.

The red blade swept past her, cutting off her escape route as the lightstaff melted down into the countertop next to her. As Le'orath jerked back, he pulled up the other blade and cut into cabinets near her leg.

The heat, the smell of burning duraplast, the black terror was almost overwhelming.

He gave a little laugh, his face mad with craving, and then he leaned in and breathed softly, "Little mother, time to play."

Then there was no more time, no more existence outside a universe of pain.

All along the outside of her arm, he drew a line of fire that boiled and bubbled through fabric and seared into her skin. She shrieked and tried to skitter away but he was there, watching with blood-hungry eyes as the heat burned through her tunic and began melting into her flesh.

Agony piled onto agony as he found new patches of skin to cook, writing into her flesh with fire. Leg, arm, the skin under her chin, one hand, then the other until her universe became a red-blistered mass of heat and scalded skin and screaming, always screaming. Blood poured down her throat as her voice gave out and there was only a raw-husked stutter. But it didn't matter. Her life, her loves, her very existence was focused on one thing - the blistering agony of blackened, still burning flesh.

Her vision greyed and then turned bloody as she lay crumpled to the floor. She just wanted it to end, begged him for it, anything to stop the pain.

Then he stopped.

Drawing a ragged breath, her mouth pulled tight as she tried not to whimper, one small part of her could still hear him.

"It would seem our time nears its end." He snickered softly, "Your rescuers are coming closer and I still have to kill the boy."

Opening her eyes, her vision full of black and blood-red, she could see him staring down at her. He was smiling, satisfied, satiated.

"But when I'm done with them, we'll finish our _conversation_. If you live that long...."

Too weak to move, she watched as he brought his lightstaff down, a blur of red light. One part of her almost admired the color but in the next instant, she knew only the fire-roar of pain broiling across her belly. Her lungs were ablaze, every nerve shrieking agony as he shoved his saber into her gut.

"Wait for me."

And then it all faded to black.


	65. Chapter 33: Approaching Fate

**Chapter 33 - Approaching Fate**

Healer Leabe was unspeakably cheerful for someone who was torturing him. He poked and prodded and nodded wisely as if he were pleased with whatever he saw in the saber wound.

Obi-Wan didn't know, didn't want to know. Instead he just wished the man would leave. This day would bring death and destruction to the Jedi or the Sith or both and he was here being tormented by a gleeful Healer who had nothing better to do than jab at him.

Oblivious to the heated glare that Obi-Wan was sending his way, Leabe resealed the bacta-soaked bandages back into place and stood over him and smiled, looking irritatingly self-satisfied. "You are healing nicely, Knight Kenobi. There are some problems with scarring on your left shoulder blade but nothing that will interfere with use of your saber arm as long as you follow the physical therapist's guidelines. And do nothing overly strenuous for several days."

Obi-Wan frowned at that. "Healer, you do know what is going to happen in a few hours, don't you?"

Smile fading, Leabe was acid and ice. "Yes, I've had words with both Master Sle'fey and Master Xacor. You are in no condition to participate in such an action, and frankly neither is Master Jinn. He is certainly more able to defend himself if need be but you will be too vulnerable in a saber fight." He huffed a bit, saying, "This is madness."

On many levels, Obi-Wan agreed with him. It was indeed madness. But it was also important, more important than the loss of a few lives, even if among those lives lost was Obi-Wan Kenobi. It would be a fair exchange - one Sith Lord for a battered, uncertain, weary Knight.

"Master Jinn will be in more danger." Obi-Wan frowned toward his Master, looking at the Bendu with critical eyes. Although Qui-Gon appeared to be better than he had the previous night, Obi-Wan could see the lines of pain around his mouth and the way he held himself. His Master was up to his old tricks, trying to be stoic in the face of duty. "I want to know what kind of problems we can expect with his injury."

When Qui-Gon opened his mouth to protect, Obi-Wan snapped, "Master, you are hiding your pain and pretending to be fine."

"I am well enough for this, Padawan. Stop hovering like a crèche master."

"Don't!" Obi-Wan sent him another frown. "It is better to know exactly what liabilities we face and plan for them than to rush headlong into danger. Ignoring it just increases the risk."

"Well said, Knight Kenobi." Leabe nodded toward Qui-Gon. "As you can see, Master Jinn is no longer on pain medication. While he is feeling some discomfort, his reaction time will not be slowed down because of the drugs." A flick of worry and the Healer walked over to Qui-Gon's bedside and looked down at him. "He will be able to fight with a saber but if he is punched or kicked in the abdomen, it might reopen the wound. Also, the muscles and surrounding scar tissue will likely tear if the fight becomes overly vigorous."

Qui-Gon sat there, looking thunderous. "I am well aware of my injuries and the potential for problems. I'm more concerned about Obi-Wan."

"Knight Kenobi is still on pain medication. Reaction time may be an issue." Shrugging, Leabe looked over his datapad, studying it for just a moment before saying, "Also, his wound was much larger than your own, Master Jinn. We've grafted bone into his shoulder and it's mostly healed but there is a weakness there that might be a problem in a fight. The scars will pull on the muscle groups across his back, making it difficult to swing his saber fully without severe pain. His saber arm is fine but it is the interconnections that will be the liability in this. With time and therapy, it should be back to acceptable levels but we don't have the time, do we?"

Obi-Wan had heard enough. "No, we don't have the time. Healer Leabe, I promise to follow your instructions...," he looked away, out toward the sunlit tower nearby, saying softly, "assuming we survive this."

The despair was still there, clinging to him like a shroud. He had tried to meditate in the last several hours, tried to accept the black corruption that Tharten's death had brought to his spirit and let it go into the Force but serenity still eluded him, hovering just out of reach. Instead, there remained only the weary submission to Jedi duty - ever duty. He would do what was necessary, no matter the cost to himself, but at the moment, it seemed a burden almost too heavy to bear.

Leabe must have sensed something, heard the defeat in his voice because he stopped what he was doing, and stared at Obi-Wan. "Promise me you won't do anything foolish."

Qui-Gon looked at Leabe with narrowed eyes and then turned to Obi-Wan. Frowning, thoughtful and looking very concerned, he said carefully, flatly, "I want that promise as well."

"I don't like what you are implying." All at once, Obi-Wan was furious. It was bad enough that he was going into a damn death trap with injuries that made survival remote at best but for them to think he'd deliberately let himself be killed was madness. It was true that he was still struggling with despair, but he would not take the easy way out just to try to escape the dark. He was a Jedi Knight and they should both remember that.

Thoroughly annoyed, he snapped, "I will do what I must." Then glaring at his old mentor, he said, with words distinct and pointed, "Isn't that right, Master Jinn?"

"Of course and that was an evasion - as you well know, Obi-Wan. I want your word." Qui-Gon was apparently not to going to take no for an answer.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It didn't really matter what he said. They were going up against a Sith Lord. Promises were irrelevant.

"I will not sacrifice myself without cause. As any Jedi Knight would do." A sharp reply and one they could not deny. "And that is all I will say."

Qui-Gon looked as if he were about to argue the point but Leabe nodded. "Of course, Knight Kenobi. Just so. You will forgive me for my concern. I find that patients who have been through significant trauma can sometimes need additional help - beyond that of bacta and bone grafts."

"Thank you, Healer Leabe but I don't think I will be needing that kind of help." Obi-Wan's anger leached away again, leaving him strangely numb. He could not fault the Healer for the suggestion of counseling but it would be better if he dealt with it himself.

Of course, Qui-Gon could not leave it alone. "Obi-Wan, you've been under a great deal of stress and perhaps a Healer...."

"Enough!" Obi-Wan rubbed at his eyes. He was tired and the day was only going to get worse. When he saw the frowns building on the two men, both of them preparing to argue with him until he gave in, he drew back, his voice durasteel. "Qui-Gon, you and Healer Leabe have said quite enough. I will handle it as I see fit. And now if you will excuse me, I want to meditate."

"Another evasion? It does you no credit, Obi-Wan. I think...."

"You think?" he snapped, scowling at the pair of them. "Master Jinn, must I remind you once again that I'm a Jedi Knight and have been for the past ten damn years? I don't think - I know - that this conversation is at an end."

He turned away, staring up at the Jedi tower rising high just outside the window. He didn't need to look to know that Leabe and Qui-Gon were sharing frowns again. He also didn't need to be lectured. Obi-Wan knew that he was being completely unreasonable but he didn't have the strength to argue. He just wanted to be left alone - to meditate, to prepare for what was to come, to sink into oblivion if need be.

Something in his words must have penetrated. He could hear the Healer talking softly with Qui-Gon but at least they were not hounding him at the moment. He'd had enough of lectures.

Sinking back into his pillows, ignoring the sounds of conversation, he let his mind empty. He hoped to find purity in the currents of the Force, some idea of what to do in the next few hours, a way to bring down a Sith Lord and survive. But there were only the churning streams of contamination poisoning his efforts.

Finally, he gave up and closed his eyes and tried not to think.

He must have drifted off. When he woke, the shadows on the tower had lengthened and the afternoon sky was turning a softer blue. Blinking, he saw that Leabe had left, that Qui-Gon must had had a meal - the scatter of plates was evidence enough, and now both his Master and Atel were sitting cross-legged on Qui-Gon's bed, meditating together.

In another lifetime, it would have given him joy to see the two of them sharing in the Jedi traditions, to see the link between generations united in the Force. As a Learner, Obi-Wan had thought that his Master would have always been there, that once he'd become a knight, Qui-Gon would have acted as a sounding board when the Council got to be overbearing, an old friend willing to tell him that he was being an idiot on occasion, and a Grandmaster spoiling Obi-Wan's apprentices with ridiculous stories of missions and intrigue. Family.

As he sat there, staring at them both, he remembered, too, the knobby-kneed girl who listened wide-eyed to him all those years ago, who had absorbed every lesson and wanted more. But that girl was gone. Now there was only a woman on the brink of Knighthood, a woman who had hurt him and he her, a woman he hardly knew.

There was so much lost, never to be regained.

While he gazed at them both, mourning the loss, Atel took a deep breath and opened her eyes. There was wariness there and it saddened him immeasurably. He'd put that into her, just as much as the fading bruises on her cheek.

Then she blinked and the distrust faded into Jedi calm - another loss that Obi-Wan could not bear to see.

As he turned away, he could hear the rustle of clothing and the soft steps toward his own bed. A gentle hand touched his sleeve and he looked up to see Atel's worried face.

She whispered, "Master, are you all right? Master Jinn and I didn't want to disturb you. You looked exhausted and the Healer thought it would be better to let you sleep."

Glancing over toward Qui-Gon who was still in meditation, Obi-Wan said, "I am well enough."

Atel reached past him and brought up a food tray but he waved it away. The idea of eating made him nauseous. But she was like a sandpanther defending her kit. "Master Obi-Wan, the Healer said that you have to eat something. You'll need your strength." She shoved a nutrient bar into his hand. "At least this."

When he started to protest again, she sent him a look that he'd used on her many times before - whenever she was being too stubborn for her own good. It was exasperation and affection and steely determination all in a single glance. In another lifetime, it would have made him smile.

Now all he did was bite into the bar and chew. It tasted like dust.

She stared down at her hands for a moment, seemed to gather courage and then looked at him again. The determination was still there in her eyes. "Master, I wanted to talk with you before we go to arrest the Supreme Chancellor."

"You shouldn't go, Atel. It's too dangerous."

Shrugging, she gave him a tentative smile. "I know but someone has to protect you. You are always getting into trouble without me around." Then she turned serious. The worry was obvious in the tone of her voice and the gentle way she touched his sleeve. "The Healer made it clear that you were vulnerable. And Master Jinn. The others will be going after the Chancellor."

He frowned, staring down at her fingertips; her small hand lay so stark against the shredded cloth of Jedi failure that it hurt to look. For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then she let go, drawing back and said, "I'll just have to make sure you don't get into trouble."

"Atel, don't." There were so many things he wanted to say to her: that going with them was a mistake, that she was the vulnerable one, that his troubles were not hers. But he also knew that she would not listen. She was as stubborn as he could be at times - when she thought she was right.

"It wasn't the arrest I wanted to talk about but afterwards." Surprised, he looked up to see her gazing earnestly back at him. "You've said that you were leaving the Jedi. I'd like you to reconsider."

"If it's about your Knighthood...."

"No, it's not that." Shaking her head, she gave him another tentative smile. "It's true that I would like you to be there, to stand beside me when I've passed the trials, to cut off my braid. It's been my dream from the time I was assigned to you." Atel looked almost shy when she said, "Even before that if you must know. But if you aren't there for the ceremony, I will accept it."

Obi-Wan didn't know what to say. She sounded like a Jedi, a Knight in all but name. It was almost as if she'd grown up before his eyes. The speed of it took his breath away.

He must have made some gesture of protest because she straightened, holding her head high. "Master, I will accept it. I won't be happy about it but if it's what you want, it will be enough."

"Atel, you don't have to stay here. When I leave, you could come with me. To the Bendu." He meant it.

There was a touch of sunburst joy in her eyes but then it faded back into determination. "No, I'm a Jedi, like my Master before me and his Master before him." Atel said, softly, "It's all I've ever wanted."

It had been his dream as well, to be a Knight, to serve the Force, to bring peace and justice to all - foolish dreams that had vanished into ash.

He could not let her waste her life that way. Sharp, stinging, he said, "I'm not sure there is going to be a Jedi Order after this. If the Chancellor is killed, the Senate will likely blame the Jedi. Even if they don't, Sle'fey will have his paws full with keeping the Order from imploding into chaos. It may not be possible."

Her answer was simple. "Master Sle'fey will need your help."

For a moment, he was speechless. Then he snapped, "You must be joking. Me help that lying son of rsshak slime. I don't think so."

"He'll need someone whose hands are clean, who can see past all the political tricks and keep the Jedi and the Council from straying into the dark again."

"No," he spat out. The idea of helping that lying bastard was so far removed from reality that he was astonished she'd asked.

"Who better than you, Master?" She sounded serious; she sounded as if she meant it.

The persistance of his Padawan was astounding. To keep hounding him to help someone whom he'd obviously detested, to put aside his own feelings of betrayal at Sle'fey's hands for the sake of a dying Order that had done nothing but destroy its members for power, was beyond anything he'd expected from her. It was unacceptable.

But the furious scowl he sent her way didn't stop her from pointing out, "It was you who uncovered Master Tharten's lies, you who found out the name of the Sith Lord without regard to your own safety or health, you who refused to bow down to Zaros or Master Sle'fey or the other Councilors when it would have been easier to do so. They need you."

"They betrayed everything I believed in, used me to get what they wanted, used you as well. And Master Jinn. Why should I help them with anything?" He couldn't keep the contempt out of his voice. "It's better to abandon them and start anew."

"That is your anger talking." It was said softly but with such pain that his reply died unspoken.

It was likely she was right. The anger at the Council, the pain of what they had done to him, to his friends, to the Bendu, to Qui-Gon, was still simmering beneath his skin. Jedi Knight or not, he was still human enough to feel betrayed. But he also had to get pass it. Otherwise, the dark would consume him utterly.

Taking a deep breath to try and cleanse the fury lurking under his heart, he let it out slowly. Carefully, distinctly, he said, "Atel, I am one lone Knight against a Council that has consistantly been shown to manipulate others for gain, to betray their own for power. They will never listen to me." Another deep breath and he shook his head. "It's impossible."

"Master, I'm not asking that you decide now. But think about it." She rested her hand on his arm again, gently, gently as she asked, "Please?"

Obi-Wan bowed his head for a moment. "Atel.... I will consider it." But it was more to placate her than anything else. Remaining a Jedi with that lying Bothan in charge was impossible. If Sle'fey won - improbable as it seemed, then it would be likely he'd start turning that devious mind of his toward control of the Jedi Order. And Obi-Wan could not be a part of that, no matter how many promises Sle'fey made.

He did not want to think about it any more. Instead he said, "If nothing else, I will try to be there for your Knighting ceremony. I'm sure the Bendu would be able to spare me for a few days."

"I would like that." She seemed to understand that now was not the time to press the point further. There was a tentative half-smile on her face as she said, "Try, Master? I thought it was 'Do or do not. There is no try'."

"Ah, that was one of Master Yoda's sayings." He was grateful for the change of subject. "His wisdom was legendary. But he could also be one of the most mischevious beings I'd ever known."

"I remember him. He used to visit the crèche and I was in his lightsaber class for a time. All the younglings were sorry when he left. I wonder where he is now."

Qui-Gon's soft voice startled them both. "With the Bendu, Padawan."

Obi-Wan had been so intent on talking to his Padawan about the ridiculous notion of staying with the Jedi that he hadn't realized that Qui-Gon had been quietly listening to their conversation.

"Was he on Naboo? I would have liked to...."

But before he could say anything else, their Knight sentry, Asaf Derst, swept into the room. "Master Jinn, Knight Kenobi, Padawan Sl'etah, it's time to leave. Masters Sle'fey and Xacor and the others will be waiting for you at the shuttle. I've come to escort you there."

The endpoint in a long game of corruption, a final confrontation between Jedi and Sith and it should have brought him a kind of relief that it would soon be over. Instead, all Obi-Wan could feel was his own emotions polluting the Force. He wasn't ready to face the darkness. He needed time to find his balance again, time to let go of the anger poisoning him but there was no time left, no time at all.

With Atel hovering over him, he pulled on his belt, and grabbed his saber. Qui-Gon was up and waiting for him by the door. Already feeling the effects of a lower pain dosage and injuries still not healed, Obi-Wan said sourly, "We wouldn't want to keep the Chancellor waiting."

"Of course, Knight Kenobi. Right this way." The guard gestured with one hand, bowing slightly as if leading a tour group, making it look like they were all going for an afternoon of tea and company. It took all of Obi-Wan's strength not to snap at him.

But when he looked into Derst's eyes, he realized that the man knew what was about to happen. There was fear there but there was also determination.

They were going to try and capture a Sith Lord.

Obi-Wan had a very bad feeling about this.


	66. Chapter 34: Headlong into Danger

**Chapter 34 - Headlong into danger**

His heart beating fast, Anakin pushed the speeder to maximum, past maximum, poured all his anxiety into flying toward the Jinn farm as quickly as he could. He could feel the currents of the Force twisting around them, black ice and smoky death clotting the air, clogging his throat with dread.

He just hoped that he wouldn't be too late, that his pride hadn't cost Le'orath and Ben their lives. He knew that Qui-Gon would never forgive him. He'd never forgive himself if something happened to them.

Frowning, knowing that he needed to focus on piloting and not his fears, he gripped the speeder stick harder, pushed for more speed. He zipped past slow moving loader droids, and streaked around beings who had no business getting in his way even if it was a public thoroughfare. They should have known better than to block his path and slow him down. Lives depended on him reaching the farm in time and no one and nothing was going to stop him.

He ignored the gestures; the curses that followed were lost in the wind. Besides, Anakin's mission was far too important to worry about a few words. He just pushed past the limits, pouring on more and more speed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Master Windu had already stopped talking into his commlink, and now was sitting there, hands white-knuckled on the seat. Master Qui-Gon had often done that as well - whenever Anakin had been driving. But Windu didn't complain, just sat there with eyes forward, scowling as usual, intent on their goal.

In the distance, Anakin could see that the weather was worsening, moisture-laden clouds churning, wheeling over the landscape, shrouding the tops of the mountains in darkness. There were stabs of brilliance as lightning skittered across the stone cliffs and down into the valley. Even the trees on either side of the road were whipping in the wind. The storm was going to be a bad one.

He could only hope that it slowed down the demon from his visions.

As they approached the Jinn farm, Anakin angled toward the house. That's where Le'orath and Ben would be, the two of them waiting out the storm in the safety of their home. They would be readying themselves for dinner and a quiet time alone - without Anakin or Qui-Gon Jinn.

There was something wrong, however. Le'orath hadn't answered her commlink although Master Windu had tried several times.

But more importantly, the Force itself felt tainted, contaminated, streaked with pain and black desperation. Overlaying it all was a kind of sick glee.

Swallowing back the bile that had risen in his throat at the thought that they might be too late after all, he looked more closely at the house. In the thickening gloom, he could see eye-searing red light flashing through the windows. It looked like it was coming from the kitchen area.

It looked like a lightsaber.

_Kriff_.

"Janson, we've reached the Jinn farm." Beside him, Windu was talking into his commlink, measured, deadly serious. "Skywalker was right. There is someone here, likely our killer. Send Drallig, Ven'ta and Helseg here as fast as you can. Has anyone returned from the other site?"

Anakin didn't hear the reply. He was too busy piloting the speeder, desperately trying not to think about why a saber was sweeping through the house.

"Good. I want a team here, quickly. I want to catch this murderer. We'll keep him occupied until you arrive. Windu out."

As Master Windu clicked off, a nightmare in black and deeper black strode out of the house, one hand holding a long-handled lightsaber in his hand. The blade was a sickening blood red.

It was the monster from his visions, the being who had killed hundreds of former Jedi and had brought fear to the Bendu, the fiend who had haunted him in dreams full of agony and death.

Fury blazing through him, Anakin shoved the speeder stick forward. There was a sharp whine as the vehicle leapt straight for the Zabrak but he ignored the noise. Running the murderer down would be rough justice but he wanted to catch this rsshak filth and end it once and for all.

His actions seemed to amuse the killer. A feral grin slimed across the Zabrak's face as he sauntered toward the barn, dragging his saber on the ground, taunting them to follow. The door closed behind him.

The speeder half-skidded on the gravel as Anakin braked hard but at least it was enough to keep it from slamming into the building. Windu grunted surprise but Anakin didn't even blink. He had more important things to think about.

He couldn't feel Le'orath's presence in the Force. She was never strong since her midichlorian level was not high, but she should be there somewhere. Ben's presence was muted but at least he could sense that he was close by.

Swallowing hard, Anakin tried to push aside the fear that they might be too late after all. It could be that the Dark energies were twisting the currents, clogging them in a black morass of hatred and sick triumph and pain so that even his normally strong Force sense was weakened.

Or it could be that Le'orath was dead and Ben dying.

A single unsure moment and he knew what he had to do. Much as he wanted to cut down that filth, his first priority must be to make sure Le'orath and Ben were all right. Qui-Gon would never forgive him if his family were in danger and he did nothing.

Besides, Windu could handle the Zabrak.

With one last look toward the barn, still unsure if he was making the right decision, Anakin twisted around the speeder, and angled toward the house, intent on looking for Qui-Gon's family. As he scrambled past Windu, focused on his mission, the Bendu Champion reached out and brought Anakin up short.

"Where are you going, Skywalker? The killer is in there." Jerking his head toward the barn, Windu was frowning at him, looking as if he were a contemptible fool who didn't know which way was up.

"I'm going to find Le'orath and Ben," Anakin snarled back.

"Your first priority should be the capture of the killer, not going off on some wild bantha chase." The man was not giving up but Anakin was tired of listening to him. With each second, his friends were in more danger.

"That demon was in the house. They could be dying."

"Yes, they could and they would not thank you for letting their murderer get away." Tightening his grip, Windu pointed out, "Neither would Qui-Gon."

"I don't have time for this." He jerked out of his grasp and stood there glaring at him. He could feel his heart beating wildly and it seemed almost as if he would fly into pieces. He had to do something and the old man was only in the way.

Windu was cold as ice, his words said through clenched teeth and scorn. "If we let the killer get away, we may never have another chance to catch him. Qui-Gon would be furious if you let your attachments get in the way of duty. Are you going to ignore his teaching for your own selfish desires just so you can be a hero?"

"How dare you!" Anakin was absolutely furious.

"I dare." Windu growled contempt at him. "You said it. We must take the killer together. As a team." Letting out a breath that sounded suspiciously like an annoyed sigh, he said more gently, "I need you, Skywalker."

"But Le'orath and Ben. I can't...." For a moment, the thought of it pulled him into grief. If he did as Master Windu asked and Le'orath and Ben died for it, he'd never forgive himself.

"Anakin, think. What would Qui-Gon do?" The man was standing over him, pushing him to answer, frowning for a reply. "What would he do?"

"His duty, damn you." Anakin snarled back.

"Then do yours, Apprentice Skywalker."

Anakin looked away, jaw working, furious at being reprimanded. Qui-Gon would never have treated him this way; his Master would have reminded him of duty and the need for focus but he would have accepted him as a partner. He would not have talked to him as if he were some fresh-faced kid or troublesome insect. Qui-Gon respected his abilities. They'd been through so much together and depended on each other for support.

Windu, on the other hand, had always disliked him. He had gone out of his way to make Anakin look like a fool many times and now was no different.

But he also knew that Qui-Gon would expect him to do his best, and truth be told, Master Windu was right - much as he hated to admit it. Qui-Gon would do what needed to be done, regardless of attachments. Much as he wanted to punch that smug look off the Bendu's face, he could not. Instead he gave an abrupt nod.

That was all it took.

Reaching into the speeder, Windu shoved cortosis gauntlets into Anakin's hands. "Good. Now, we will try and take him, or at least slow him down until the other Bendu get here." He pulled his own pair of gauntlets on, then grabbed a second lightpike and shoved it into the back of his belt. "Do you know what to do?"

Growling displeasure at being questioned like an errant youngling, Anakin snapped, "Catch him, of course."

The glare that came back could have vaporized most of Naboo but Anakin only matched him look for look.

Muttering for a moment under his breath, the Bendu Champion appeared as if he were about to explode. Brown eyes staring into his, Master Windu said, "Skywalker, we'll go in together. Ready for him, not rushing headlong into danger like some kind of crazed gundark." He scowled at him. "Because if you go scurrying in there unprepared, he'll slice you apart."

Shaking his head, Windu seemed to center himself, letting his anger bleed into the Force. In a much calmer, clearer voice, he said, "Anakin, regardless of our past differences, we need to work together if we are going to succeed."

For a long moment, Anakin said nothing, trying to force down his fury, trying to find his center, trying to do what Qui-Gon would want him to do. He knew what he had to say, difficult as it was. Finally, he reached down into the speeder, pulled out a blaster and tucked it into his belt. Then shoving his gauntlets on, he bowed his head in sharp acceptance. "Yes, Master Windu. Together."

Mace Windu frowned, staring at him suspiciously. Perhaps he'd expected more of an argument but Anakin didn't care. They needed to find the murderer and then go look for Ben and Le'orath. Every second spent standing there arguing was time lost.

Windu must have realized that as well. With one last thoughtful look at Anakin, he nodded toward the barn. "Let's go."

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It was quiet inside, almost as silent as a tomb - except for the rustling of a few birds high above. Normally at this time of day, the building would be full of afternoon light, the sunshine streaming through the high windows. But now with the storm fast approaching, it was gloom-filled, pockets of darkness in the corners and behind discarded equipment were only more shadows. With a bit of dust rising into the air, it seemed almost a stage waiting for action.

Le'orath had clearly been preparing for harvest. Several mechanicals were lined up along the near wall and there was a scatter of metal gears and droid arms on the far bench. Other machinery was tucked into bays, waiting for the appropriate time to be moved out into the fields.

Surprisingly, the center of the barn wasn't clean. There were dirt and greenery scattered about, vines and branches and leaves each in their own neat pile, and distinct lines of gravel connecting them all. It looked like a map fit for a young boy to play in. Apparently Ben had been busy.

The thought of them both drove Anakin back into grief. If Le'orath died because of his decision to go with Master Windu, he'd never forgive himself. He did have one consolation; he could feel Ben close by. He was still alive, but his Force presence was muted as if he were hurt or in hiding.

He hoped that Ben was all right and that he would stay away. Protecting a child would only make things more difficult in their hunt for the killer and if Ben got caught in the middle of a battle, Anakin wasn't sure he'd be able to keep him safe.

But now was not the time for anxiety. He had to keep his focus on the here and now as Qui-Gon had so often told him to do. There was no room for mistakes.

Gripping his lightstaff tighter, he stared into the shadows, looking for likely spots for a murderer to hide. On his left, Windu was slowly circling the open space in the barn, his hand on his lightstaff, his face frowning in concentration. Even with the disturbing touch of contamination in the Force, Anakin could sense the currents moving outward, like a droplet rippling still water, and knew that the Bendu was trying to find their adversary.

Anakin felt strangely vulnerable. There was no hint of where they might find the killer. He didn't think it was possible that the slime had left the building, although Anakin's argument with Windu, in all his obstinate blindness, had lasted far too long. It was more likely that the killer was still there and using the darkness in the Force to mask his presence.

He moved to the center and looked up towards the training equipment high over his head, watched the dust particles floating in the air, listened for any clue to the murderer's presence. He heard nothing.

Instead, there was a kind of stillness as if the galaxy was holding its collective breath.

Then from a far corner off to his right, he heard a young voice thick with emotion, whispering, "He hurt Mama."

"Ben?" Anakin wanted to turn around and find the boy and get him out of there but he didn't dare. Instead, focusing on trying to find the murderer, he said urgently, "Where is he, Ben?"

A little hiccup of grief as he sniffed back, "Back there, behind the Treadwell. The bad man. He hurt Mama."

"Stay where you are. We'll take care of him."

Anakin felt sick but he pushed past the sorrow and tried to focus on keeping Ben safe. He needed him to stay hidden in case there was fighting; he'd only be a liability. He just hoped that the boy would listen.

Before Ben could say anything else, a rough chuckle crawled down the walls, the sound dark and poisonous and so very sure. "I gutted her. She was hardly worth the effort but she screamed well enough." Another laugh and then the voice turned pleasure-husky. "Almost as well as the Jedi trash I butchered yesterday."

In the distance, he could hear Ben startled gasp and then crying as if his heart had broken.

Anakin wanted to weep, too. But with every foul word, his universe turned a deeper and deeper red. He wanted to find that filthy murderous slime and cut him into little pieces. He wanted to hear him scream as he fell apart. He wanted to pummel what was left of the body until there was nothing but blood and pulverized bone.

Too late. For Le'orath, it was far too late. And it was all his fault.

Starting forward, intent on making that rsshak slime pay, Anakin could only blink surprise when he was jerked back. His vision clearing, he recognized Mace Windu's thunderous face and the look of frowning distaste that he did so well.

Still holding onto Anakin, one hand gripping him tightly, Mace's voice was gentle as he whispered, "Ben, stay where you are. We'll come get you and go look for your mother when we're done here."

Then he turned back to Anakin, saying flatly, "He's baiting you. Don't trust anything he says."

Anakin was about to reply when out of the darkness came more scornful words. "Ah, Master Windu. Excellent. Let me disembowel your little pet and then we shall have some sport, you and I." The Zabrak sounded both contemptuous and eager for a fight.

Anakin was certainly eager as well. "I am _not_ his pet," he shouted back.

Incensed, he kept looking around for a way to reach the Zabrak's location, to get in a strike in before the killer realized what was happening. He knew where the automaton was kept; he could even see one of the Treadwell's arms in the gloom and Ben has said that he was behind it. If he could just inch around to the back of the barn, he'd have a chance at destroying that slime before he knew what hit him. But Windu wouldn't let go of his arm.

The killer's sarcastic comments were getting on his nerves, too.

"_Master_ Windu, where did you pick up such a pathetic mongrel? Couldn't you have thrown him back and gotten someone worthy of your time?"

"Why you...." That did it. Anakin wanted to fly, feet-first and kick in the filth's crooked teeth - if Windu would just let him go.

"Skywalker...." The sharp, exasperated way Windu said it only fed his anger. Anakin finally gave a sharp tug and pulled out of his grasp. But scowling at him didn't stop the Bendu from saying, "You don't know if he's telling the truth. He could be lying so that you would forget your training and give into emotion. This is not the way to capture him."

"It's better than just standing here," Anakin snapped back.

Mace Windu only shook his head, muttering under his breath, looking at him with contempt in his eyes. "Skywalker, enough. You are making things worse." Then straightening up, he said in a loud, clear voice, "If you surrender now, we will give you a fair trial. Bendu don't kill unless absolutely necessary."

There was movement high up and several birds flew out from one of the darkened corners. A sharp spike in the Force and the birds wheeled tight near the ceiling, panicking, and then fell like stones onto the floor below. There was the soft plop, plop of meat hitting the ground.

Glancing down at the bodies scattered at his feet, Anakin felt ill. The birds had been crushed, nothing but feathers and bone and black blood. Harmless creatures and the Zabrak had destroyed them without thought.

They had their answer.

It looked as if Master Windu was about to give into his own anger. Anakin knew that Mace's reputation was that of a stoic, controlled Bendu Champion but he also had an emotional side that he rarely showed to his peers. That Anakin had experienced it spoke volumes about just how annoyed Windu could get with him at times. The fact of the matter was that they drove each other insane on a normal day and this day was far from normal.

After a moment, Windu seemed to calm, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Eyes narrowed as he glanced down at the dead birds, he murmured, "Ben mentioned the Treadwell."

"It's in the back, just below the training bars, under the second level rack," Anakin whispered. "I know exactly where it is. I can get to him and end this."

"No, he'll be waiting for you." Mace said softly, "He has the advantage. We need to flush him out."

"But I don't...."

"If you go charging in there alone, he'll cut you into ribbons." But before he could object again, Windu sent him another quelling look, one that Qui-Gon often used when he thought he was being an idiot. "Skywalker, teamwork. Remember?"

He shoved down his impatience. It would seem that the Naboo sun would grow cold and dead before Master Mace Windu would finally do something. Anakin wanted to fly into the darkness and kill the rsshak slime, not wait around like a fool. But much as he hated to admit it, Windu was right about one thing. Teamwork was the only way. If he tried to kill the demon on his own, he'd fail. His vision had shown him that.

Then he had an idea.

"Skywalker, I'll circle around and you...."

As Anakin pulled out his blaster, aiming it toward the second story shelving just above the Treadwell's location, Windu snapped, "What are you doing?"

"Master Windu, you said it yourself. Flush him out, of course." He smiled, confident that it would work. "Watch."

Before he could protest, Anakin fired several shots into the boards and the supporting struts of the platform above the automaton. There was a loud groan as the metal vaporized. Equipment on the shelving began to topple forward, plunging down in a shower of wrecked parts and melted plasticreet and bits of smoldering wood onto the floor at the far end of the barn.

"So the pet has claws." The voice was unruffled, almost amused. "I've enjoyed this little game but enough of play."

The Force was growing more polluted by the moment, clogging with ice and corruption, being warped into something so noxious that it sent shivers down Anakin's back. He could feel its energy being pulled toward the killer, twisting into new configurations of poison and power, roiling in the black. There was a taste of lightning in the air.

Half-shredded wooden boards and the smashed hulk that had been the Treadwell began to rise, higher and higher into the gloom. Out of the darkness, a black-gloved hand opened its palm and then pointed straight at them both. The wreckage hurtled toward them.

"Time to die."


	67. Chapter 35: Jedi's Choice part 1

**A/N - I've also started downloading my side series - Capturing Light. ****It's the romance between Qui-Gon and Le'orath. Hope you enjoy it. :D **

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Chapter 35 - Jedi's Choice part 1

The tension in the shuttle was formidable.

There were twelve of them there: Atel and Qui-Gon, Sle'fey and Xacor, Derst and the guard from the Hunter's Group, Rostak. The rest Obi-Wan didn't recognize but that was not uncommon.

Over the years, the Council had kept him so busy that unless he or Atel were in the Healer's ward, he'd rarely stayed at the Temple more than a few days. There had been no time for growing friendships. Even the occasional social gathering of Knights and Masters organized to discuss problems in the field had been curtailed; it was too much of an expense according to the Senate accountants. So he'd had no real connection with the remaining Jedi and most of his friends had been cast out early in the first few rounds of dismissals.

Now he wondered if the constant missions had been deliberate, not so much that he was needed in the field but to keep him isolated from the other Jedi.

He couldn't dismiss the idea. Sle'fey and Xacor and Tharten had all used him in their own ways and isolation would have kept him from finding out the truth too soon.

He wasn't the only victim in this. Atel had been a young girl, not quite ten years old when she'd been assigned to him. He'd tried his best to keep her safe. But with her studies and the pressures of mission imperatives, he'd often had to leave her behind. Tharten had 'helped' her with her studies while he was away. In hindsight, it was obvious what a very great mistake that had been but at the time, he'd had little choice.

Now it was too late to repair the damage. Now if they survived this debacle, he might never see her again.

He was already mourning the loss.

She must have caught some of his unease because she leaned into him, wordless comfort in her touch. He sent her back a half-smile. Memories of other missions, of other times when she'd sat next to him before going into battle, caught in his throat. So often they'd relied on each other in the field - for strength, for courage, for the warmth that comes from family. Now he could not bear to see the worry in her eyes.

He turned away and glanced at the other Jedi in the shuttle. Most of them were gathered in the back, obviously lost in thought, staring out the window or else looking at nothing at all. There was nervousness there and concern. He could feel dread troubling the air.

At the front of the shuttle, Masters Xacor and Sle'fey were deep in conversation, whispering heatedly but not so loudly that he could hear what they were saying. It didn't matter. It was none of his concern. But it was disconcerting that Sle'fey kept glancing at him and then at Qui-Gon and away again; his dark eyes were opaque, his fur flattened and still. Xacor, too, would look their way and then mutter something to the Bothan.

It was obvious that they were plotting again. Obi-Wan just hoped it didn't include him or his old Master. He'd had enough of their conspiracies to last a lifetime.

The only one truly at peace seemed to be Qui-Gon Jinn. He was cool serenity in a maelstrom of growing darkness. Qui-Gon sat next to him, eyes closed, deep in meditation. Obi-Wan was not surprised. He thought back to all the times his former Master had found his calm center in the midst of battle, drawing in the Force with complete ease. Now, likely going to his death, Qui-Gon was again reaching to the Force for strength.

Obi-Wan could not. Tainted by fear and the fury of being pushed into something he knew would only end in disaster, he was loathe to touch the Force as Qui-Gon had done. So he sat there and tried not to think.

The respite lasted only a few moments.

The frantic whispering at the front of the shuttle died down. Obi-Wan looked up to see Master Sle'fey walking over to him, halting a step or two away, just out of reach. Xacor was right behind him, frowning.

"Master Xacor...," the Bothan Master nodded back toward his counterpart and then said softly, "disagrees with me on the timing but I feel that it needs to be said, now, before we reach the Senate and things become complicated."

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Sle'fey settled into ready stance, looking as if he were about to go into battle, even if it was only with words. Looking at Obi-Wan with a steadfast gaze, he said, "Knight Kenobi, when this is done, I would like you to consider accepting an appointment to the Jedi Council. The others and I have discussed this and we would be honored if you would join us."

Beside him, he heard a little gasp from Atel; her hand fell onto his sleeve, warmth and hope in her touch. Clearly, she wanted him to change his mind and stay with the Order.

She was too naive for her own good. She would take the offered bait and never see the price.

But he did; he understood it all too well.

Once he had been as gullible as Atel. Ignoring the decay of the Order, he'd assumed that he was doing the right thing by remaining with the Jedi but all he had really done was enable them to use him for their own agendas. Manipulation and the lust for power drove Sle'fey and Xacor and the others, not to make things better for all but to control everything and everyone around them. They were little better than gundarks he'd faced so long ago, full of teeth and claws and ravenous hunger. They were power mad and did not think anything wrong in it.

"Are you trying to bribe me, Sle'fey? With the honor of Councilship?" It took all of his strength not to spit in their faces. "Or is this just another of your games?"

"No games, Obi-Wan." Master Xacor said quietly. "Trest is a little premature in bringing this up - it should have waited until after Palpatine's capture, but we do want you on the Council."

Sending an annoyed glare toward Xacor, Sle'fey then turned back to Obi-Wan. "The truth is that we need you, not just the Council but the Jedi Order. If we are regain a little of what we once were...." The Bothan had the gall to look both ashamed and thoroughly earnest. "We need you."

Obi-Wan felt out of control again. Long ago, before the dismissals and the loss of so many Jedi, he would have been elated to be asked to be on the Council. They had been the wisest of the Jedi Order after all and he would have considered himself fortunate to sit among them.

Now with everything that had happened, he could only feel contempt at their obvious manipulations. "You're lying. I don't think you know what the truth is anymore."

"Obi-Wan, I know that our choices hurt you in the past but we did what we thought was right at the time. I didn't like lying to you but I would do it again if I thought it necessary." Folding one paw over another, Sle'fey stood there, unrepentant. "I had to think of the Order above my own conscience."

"And that is why hundreds died? Because you ignored your conscience?" Obi-Wan could not keep the disgust out of his voice.

"I didn't kill them and we did everything we could to stop it once we realized what was going on." Drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Sle'fey said, "I cannot change the past but I would like to change the future. With your help."

The Bothan Master sounded so reasonable, so calm that Obi-Wan could almost feel himself listening to the bold-faced liar.

If he'd been in his right mind, he'd have turned away, dismissing them without another thought.

Instead he sat there, tired, confused and bitter. The pain medication only kept the sharp agony of his wound at bay but the pull of repaired muscles reminded him of betrayal and the terror of almost losing Qui-Gon, reminded him of mind-rape and the unclean memory of Tharten's final moments under his hand. And now the Master who had used him for all of those years, was as much to blame as Tharten had been, wanted a favor.

He would have smiled at the irony if it weren't so absurd.

Beside him, Atel shifted, spoke up, "Master, this would be a...."

The hope shining in her eyes reminded him again of what he had lost and it hardened his resolve. "Don't!" She jerked back, clearly startled at his vehemence. "I'm leaving the Order as soon as this is over. I'm done with their tricks."

"But he seems sincere."

"He always does."

The cold contempt in Obi-Wan's voice frosted the air but it didn't stop Sle'fey from saying, "I ask that you consider it." The Bothan Master drew back, nodded toward the Senate building in the distance. "When Palpatine is captured and we have time to discuss this further, I would welcome your concerns. Perhaps we can negotiate terms."

"Negotiate? When did anyone ever negotiate for a seat on the Council?" The implications were staggering and yet he was not surprised. Before everything changed ten years ago, such a suggestion would never have been considered; the image of Master Yoda and Mace Windu haggling like Corellian smugglers over the price of a Council seat was so far beyond the realm of possibility that Obi-Wan could not even wrap his mind around the concept. It was preposterous.

He waited for a protest, waited for Sle'fey to tell him that he had misunderstood, waited for an explanation that could indicate that at least one aspect of the Jedi Order had remained pure. But silence was its own answer.

"Ah, I see." Even the words left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Not surprisingly, Sle'fey did not blink at the loathing in Obi-Wan's voice, merely stood there looking down at him. Finally, he shrugged, his paws spread wide in a motion that might be considered contrition. "The Jedi have not been on the right path for some time. It is.... difficult to change overnight."

Sle'fey looked down, then turned away, avoiding Obi-Wan's eyes, staring out the shuttle window into the distance. Whispering half to himself, he said, "It is certain that some of us will not survive this mission, myself included. I thought you should be aware of our plans before it was too late."

Obi-Wan followed the Bothan's gaze, noticing for the first time just how quickly they were approaching the Senate dome. It swallowed the horizon, looming large, growing closer with every heartbeat. The late afternoon light cast a reddish stain over the building's surface, the color of dried blood.

Shivering at the sight, he glanced over at Qui-Gon. The man was sitting there, calm, unruffled by arguments, quietly waiting for the final act in this desperate holodrama.

Although he wanted to get past that calm exterior and shake him into fighting this travesty, Obi-Wan knew it would do no good. But he had to try one last time. Besides, Sle'fey wanted something from him. Perhaps he would negotiate with the Bothan Master after all.

"Very well, I'll consider it." There was stunned silence for a moment. Apparently, no one hadn't expected him to give in so easily.

"I ask a favor in return." A deep frown cutting across his face, hands cramped from tension, Obi-Wan ignored the astonished stares. Instead he focused all his attention on the Bothan Councilor. He wanted Sle'fey to know just how much they would have to negotiate if they wanted him on the Council. He said, flatly, "Send Qui-Gon back to the Temple. I'll come with you to arrest Palpatine but let him stay behind."

There was a soft reprimand in Qui-Gon's voice. "Padawan, no."

Obi-Wan ignored him, stared instead at Sle'fey, waiting for his answer.

"You are persistent, stubborn and, at times, more focused than anyone I've ever encountered - all traits we will need in the coming months." There was a glint of satisfaction in Sle'fey's eyes and he looked almost pleased. For a moment, Obi-Wan thought that he'd succeeded after all but then Sle'fey shook his head. "But no, I will not compromise this mission even for you, Obi-Wan."

He felt defeat settle into his skin. There was nothing else to be done, not with Qui-Gon so adamant and the Council members opposed to it. Sending a sharp glare in their direction, he turned away. Frustrated, dreading the moments ahead and knowing that they would only end badly, Obi-Wan sat there, silent, and stared out the shuttle's window.

Sle'fey must have realized that their conversation was at an end. Obi-Wan heard him say, "Master Jinn, we sent the message you requested. I am not sure how long it will take to reach Naboo but it was sent."

"Thank you, Master Sle'fey." Qui-Gon sounded relieved.

There was a jangle of metal and Obi-Wan glanced up to see Force cuffs dangling from Xacor's hands. The Zabrek seemed resigned, almost ashamed when he realized that Obi-Wan was staring at him. But all he said was, "I regret that it has come to this but we are nearing the Senate."

Sle'fey nodded. Looking at Qui-Gon, he reached out with one paw, palm open, waiting. "We need your weapon, Master Jinn. It would look odd if a prisoner were armed." When Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest, Sle'fey hurried to say, "We will keep it safe until it is needed."

"I will take his saber," Obi-Wan said sharply. "You will be busy with other concerns." It remained unspoken that he didn't trust them with it, that he didn't trust them at all.

With a gleam of reproach in his eyes, Qui-Gon handed the lightstaff over into Obi-Wan's hands. It felt odd, the weight of it awkward and yet there was a sense of his Master's warmth in it, almost as if the man had infused something of himself into cold metal and duraplast. Clipping it to his belt, he nodded to Qui-Gon and waited for Xacor to finish setting the stage for this little farce.

It didn't take long.

As the Councilor stepped forward, Qui-Gon said nothing, merely lifted his hands, and Xacor slipped the binders onto his wrists. There was an audible snap and the soft crackle of blue energy began to shimmer around the cuffs, leaping from one to the other, a cruel radiance, shutting off his connection to the Force.

His Master gave a little grunt of pain and his face paled. But Qui-Gon made no protest, merely nodded his acceptance.

"I thank you for your help, Master Jinn. I will do my best to make sure that you are protected for as long as possible," Master Sle'fey said softly. "I'm sorry."

"Not sorry enough, Master," Obi-Wan growled, his voice harsh with censure.

Then there was no more time for regrets.

The shuttle's windows darkened, the sunlight morphing into artificial gloom as it slid into the landing bay. As it settled down onto the platform, the transport lurched a bit and then stilled; the background noise of engines died into silence.

For a moment, no one said a word. There was no need.

They had arrived at their destination.

* * *


	68. Chapter 35: Jedi's Choice part 2

**Chapter 35 - Jedi's Choice Part 2**

Sidious could feel that there was something amiss.

He would have preferred the currents of the Force be stained with the rich oily black of tortured souls begging for death or the molten red of innocent blood. But instead there was only a shadowy murk; the greys of growing Lightside filth were all but polluting the darkness. There were warnings there, of hidden agendas and dangers yet unseen.

It would appear that the Jedi scum were trying to corrupt the Force with their good intentions.

He supposed that he should be amused. After all, they were insignificant, insects all, trapped in their Codes and duty, incredibly blind to the fate that awaited them. But he'd be a fool to ignore the warnings and Darth Sidious was no fool.

At least the traps were in place. He'd checked them a few hours ago and he was certain that nothing would survive should it come to a fight, not even Jedi. In that, he was satisfied.

Turning back into Palpatine persona, he twisted around and began paying attention once more to the prattlings of Senators hovering in his office. He had to admit that at least the Jedi trash has some integrity, that they weren't willing to do anything for power - well except for Tharten and her cronies. But the creatures in the room had no such compunction. Instead they were quite willing to killing their own hive-mates or the younglings under their care or any other sentient being who got in their way.

So much for Senatorial principles.

Indeed, before him was a perfect example of what the glorious Senate had become. A mixture of oily syncophant and fool, the cretin, Kenth Zaros, head of the Oversight Committee on Jedi Affairs, stood before him. He was obviously trying to garner attention. His tunic alone would be enough to guarantee that. It was a blazing eyesore, full of red and eye-popping yellows, the corusca gems edging his sleeves worth a Core planet's yearly revenue.

The man should be gutted like the slime he was, the insignificant worm. Palpatine would have liked a little sport but instead of watching Zaros's blood soaking the carpet in streams of hot liquid, he had to nod gravely and try to look interested.

"Supreme Chancellor, I welcome this opportunity to see Jinn brought to justice, murderous coward that he is." The rat-faced simpleton was rubbing his hands together, and snickering.

Palpatine tried not to laugh at the sight. It was just too absurd. The brazen peacock knew nothing of justice.

However, he had to play to his audience. He put on his most benevolent yet concerned look, the grandfatherly visage, one that had fooled so many before. He shook his head, saying, "Yes, I was shocked when I heard the news. Jinn certainly has much to answer for."

Zaros nodded eagerly. "He deserves his fate. Master Tharten was a good administrator, Jedi though she was, and she certainly knew how to manipulate those ruffians into accepting their situation. She was fair-minded, tenacious and tough, honorable, too - unlike most of the Jedi. She was quick to understand how scarce resources are these days and always willing to trim her budget in order to help the Republic. A true leader."

"Indeed she was. Master Tharten will be sorely missed." Palpatine bowed his head for a moment, pretending to be saddened by the event.

"Well said, Supreme Chancellor." Zaros looked almost as if he would miss Tharten. Perhaps, he would. She certainly made the fool's job that much easier. "It will be more difficult now to keep those idiotic Jedi in line. They have no idea of basic economics and are incapable of money management. We may need to take over the Council ourselves."

That would never do. He was so close to the final eradication of the Jedi that any interaction with the Senate might force his hand. He would have to squelch that idea and quickly. "Representative Zaros... Kenth, while I understand the need for frugality, it would be unwise to pull people from the other Senate committees at this time. Besides, you are doing such a splendid job that I cannot see interfering with that."

Zaros beamed. "Supreme Chancellor, I don't know what to say. Your continued support has given me new hope that we can get past this debacle with Jinn and move onto a leaner, more compliant Jedi Order."

"I am sure you are right. Luckily, the Jedi have realized their place. But I must remind you that I cannot be seen to be prejudiced in this case. After all, I must remain impartial, a leader to all the people, not just to those in power but the lower classes as well." He looked out the window, into the distance. "While I applaud their decision, it is the Jedi who have condemned Jinn, not this office. I hope you understand the difference."

The over-dressed fool nodded, saying smoothly, "Of course, Supreme Chancellor. The Jedi must take full responsibility. I...."

A soft chime and Palpatine looked up to see his secretary gesturing to him "Excuse me, Representative Zaros. Duty calls." Without a backward glance, not even listening to the synophant's apologies, he moved to his desk and wating for the incoming message.

It was that annoyance, Amidala of Naboo.

Sitting down, he tried to look interested but it was an effort. The woman was tiresome at the very least and sometimes an impediment to his plans, a fact that made him increasingly frustrated. She'd avoided several assassination attempts, too. She was either extraordinarily lucky or more wily that she appeared. In either case, he would need to get rid of her soon.

Putting on a mask of somber but weary concern, he said, "Senator Amidala, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"My apologies, Supreme Chancellor. I know I am imposing on your time but one of our Naboo citizens, Qui-Gon Jinn, a hero in the liberation of Naboo, has been arrested by the Jedi. But no charges were filed. As you know, the Naboo government should have been informed as to the charges and the defendant given legal council as required by Senate decree. When I contacted the Jedi Temple about this, they told me to contact your office. I know that this is something of a local problem but I have been unable to get any information. Are you aware of such an arrest?"

"Senator, indeed I am." This was too delicious an opportunity. Her naivete was begging to be crushed.

Looking down at his steeped fingertips, he closed his eyes, as if too weary to cope with one more problem. He waited for a few heartbeats to increase the tension of the moment. Then finally, his voice resigned, he looked up at her and shook his head. "Jinn's behavior has been appalling. He apparently killed four mine owners on Telos, has been slave-trading for several years and there is a list of other infamous evils perpetrated by this man. Jinn deserves his fate."

She turned pale but the little fool just kept prattling on, "I cannot believe it, Chancellor. I've known Master Jinn for many years. There must be some mistake."

"No mistake." Palpatine shook his head and shrugged defeat. "Unfortunately, even if he were innocent of the other crimes, while imprisoned awaiting trial, he killed the head of the Jedi Council, Master Sera Tharten." He leaned forward, staring at her, savoring the moment. "In cold blood. There were several witnesses. He is condemned to pay the ultimate price."

"Condemned?" For an instant, she looked like one of those deep-sea fishes that, once pulled from the oceans, were left to drown in air. She was pathetic, her eyes bulging, her mouth open wide in astonishment.

Then she seemed to gather strength, protesting, "Even if he did murder someone, he would need to be tried in a court of law. Who was his legal council? I would like to talk with his lawyer and find if there has been an appeal filed. I can't stand by and let this go."

"Senator, I have nothing to do with his sentence. The Jedi have condemned him, not I."

"Sir, you cannot let this happen, not without a proper trial in the courts. It's..."

He cut her off in mid-sentence. He knew from past experience that once Amidala thought something needed to be done with one of her insignificant pet projects, she would push and push and push until most gave way just to shut her up. He had neither the time nor the inclination to deal with her foolishness. Besides, baiting her was always, for want of a better word, amusing. "Senator, I am surprised that you would try and use your office in this way. Jinn has had his trial before the Jedi Council. Besides, my hands are tied. The Jedi, those guardians of peace and justice, have found Jinn guilty of murder, not I. There is nothing more I can do except carry out their sentence."

Apparently the woman didn't know the meaning of defeat. "Supreme Chancellor, this does not make sense. Qui-Gon Jinn would certainly not murder anyone in cold blood. He's not capable of it." When he didn't say anything else, she turned stubborn. "Sir, if you will not stop this, I will have to go to the Courts and have it stopped."

"Senator, you are most welcome to try. If there has been a mistake, I would be remiss in ignoring it." Sounding both resigned and hopeful, as if he really wanted her to go to the courts and remedy the situation, he told her, "But you will have to be quick. His execution is scheduled for this evening, in an hour or so from now."

"Then I better get started." She straightened, looking every inch a former queen. "I'll stop this, Supreme Chancellor. I promise."

And with that, her image dissolved into a blue haze and then into nothing at all.

Snickering under his breath, he muttered, "Better hurry, Senator."


	69. Chapter 35: Jedi's Choice part 3

**Chapter 35 - Jedi's Choice Part 3**

As the time grew closer for Jinn's farce of an execution to begin, a small cadre of Senators, their lackeys and the ever-servile Representative Zaros remained. They seemed eager to see a former Jedi brought low and Palpatine could understand why. He looked around the room, watching each being in turn as they preened and sneered, made disparaging remarks about the Jedi or remembered Jinn's exploits while he had still been in the Order.

Each of them had had an altercation with Qui-Gon Jinn on one or more occasions and had been made poorer for it, either through loss of wealth or the relinquishment of power in their systems. Now they were here to participate in something very special - revenge.

Of course, he could not appear to be anything but impartial. Yes, as Supreme Chancellor, he would see that justice was done; he was required to do so. But he could not be the one condemning him. Luckily, the Jedi had accomplished that part all by themselves.

Now he was waiting for the final hour when Jinn would appear and be led away out of the control of the Jedi and into the execution chamber.

Sidious had originally planned for an escape, one that would have had Jinn falling into his hands and away from prying eyes. But that would have left the fate of the prisoner unknown to the Jedi and it might have raised questions. They might have even tried to pursue him. That could be a problem.

Instead, upon reflection, he had decided that the execution would take place after all. Jinn would be killed or at least appeared to be killed by the Senate guards while the Jedi watched.

It would be easy enough to fool them.

A poison mixture, one that caused no pain but merely shut down bodily functions, was usually used in criminal terminations. In fact, the compassionate idiots in the Senate had insisted upon it - an humanitarian gesture, something about refusing to cause unnecessary anguish to the prisoners in their last moments of life. Absurd folly but the Senate cretins had also made it stunningly simple to manipulate the final outcome.

Witnesses would see a man executed before their eyes. What they wouldn't realize was that the right choice of poison and pharmaceuticals would guarantee that the prisoner was merely on the edge of death and not lost for all eternity. More importantly, with the Force choked with a dark mixture of revenge and blood-lust from the Senators, even the Jedi would not be able to see through the deception.

The spectacle of it would be his to savor - the last gasp of a dying man, the sound of triumph from the audience, and perhaps even an outpouring of anger-tinged grief from Kenobi. The Jedi Council would stand around, looking ineffectual; some might even mourn the old rsshak slime's death. Sand-fleas, all of them, hopping around in a frenzy of emotion but yet they would be unable to change a thing.

And when the Jedi had gone back into their gilded cage, he'd have the final triumph. Another application of drugs, judicious use of the dark side and Sidious would - in a manner of speaking - be able to bring the dead back to life. Until, of course, he tortured the man to death, until there was nothing left but a mound of cooling flesh at his feet.

He was looking forward to it.

But alas, there was no more time for pleasant anticipation. The turbolift doors outside his office opened wide and vomited out the Jedi and their prisoner.

As expected, Jinn was at the center, surrounded by the Jedi; his hands were aglow with the blue haze of Force cuffs and he looked as if he were in pain.

Beside him, Kenobi stood fury-rigid, his usually bright spirit in the Force clouded with a mixture of fear and blood-red anger. It appeared as if this confrontation must be affecting Kenobi more than expected; Sidious was pleased. It might be easier to turn the knight than he had thought.

Of course, Kenobi's pitiful little fool of a Padawan followed behind, dutifully guarding his back.

The rest of them crowded into his antechamber, Sle'fey and Xacor and several others, a total of twelve beings including Jinn. For a single execution, the number was surprising. It would seem that the Jedi were taking this matter very seriously, suspiciously so.

It was odd, too odd to ignore. He would have to remain cautious but he was not alarmed. After all, the traps were set and it would only take a moment to trigger them.

He gestured for the Republic guards to close in, surrounding the Jedi on three sides, and then beckoned the group forward.

The bystanders, Senators and their assistants along with Representative Zaros, were scattered about the room but now gathered quickly into knots of anger. Muttering among themselves, mouthing sharp little bursts of noise that seemed to gather into a muted roar, they appeared to be out for blood.

Palpatine sat back down behind his desk, staring at the tableau. It was almost perfect - the Jedi scorned, Jinn in chains, Kenobi glowering, the encircling mob baying for Jinn's death. He would have liked to savor the darkness but he had a part to play.

"Senators, please. This is not entertainment but a serious matter. Enough!"

He rarely raised his voice but this was one of those times and it had the expected effect. Astonishment rippled in the air. As everyone in the room looked at him, the silence was absolute.

Now that he had their attention, he played the audience, lifting his head high, trying to look outraged and yet resigned. He was the gentle yet strong commander, determined to do what was right for the galaxy. No one would ever think anything amiss. Instead, by following the rules of law, by refusing to show favoritism to one of the citizens of his home planet of Naboo, he was showing that he put the Republic first, that the principles of sacrifice and duty were more important than his own political agendas or private opinion.

It was absurd theater and he reveled in it.

"Master Xacor, I thank you for your diligence in this matter. We all mourn Master Tharten's death. It was a tragic loss but I think she will rest easier knowing that her murderer will pay the ultimate price for his treachery."

"Yes, the death of Master Tharten has affected all of us." Xacor's eyes flicked to Jinn and back again. "We welcome this opportunity to show the Republic that the Jedi will continue to be the arbiters of justice, even in these difficult times."

"Well said, Master Xacor. I know that the Jedi have had problems of late but with the proper guidance, the Order will come out of this situation better and stronger than before."

As the Zabrak bowed his agreement, Palpatine tried not to smirk. Xacor was certainly playing his part and it was becoming clearer by the moment that the man would be a good choice for head of the Jedi; he had just the right touch of subservience and seemed to take direction well. Things were looking up.

However, turning his gaze back to Jinn, something caught at Palpatine's attention, giving him pause.

The former Jedi was not playing the expected role. Instead, he was standing there, impassive, no fear playing across his face, no sheen of sweat showing how terrified he was. The man didn't even seem upset.

Sle'fey, on the other hand, was indignant, his white fur whirling with emotion. He stalked over to Palpatine's desk, standing right in front of him, glaring. "Supreme Chancellor, this is unacceptable. I thought this was going to be a private occasion, not a spectacle for a crowd of Senators who are all known to have ...issues with former Jedi Jinn."

Palpatine ignored him, turning instead to Xacor, "Master Jedi, I thought we had already discussed Master Sle'fey's part in all this." He sent a frown toward the Bothan. "He should have remained at the Temple."

"Your pardon, Supreme Chancellor, but he is here to see justice done," said Xacor. "I will vouch for his behavior."

"See that you do." He sent an icy glare towards Sle'fey and then turning back to Xacor, his voice sharp with annoyance, Palpatine continued, "Do you have the documents detailing the charges against the murderer? As you know, we cannot expedite this execution without following the proper protocols. The courts, the Senate and the Republic demand that we follow procedure to the letter." He glanced around the room, making sure that all were watching as he put the Jedi in their place. "And _I_ will accept nothing less."

"I agree, Supreme Chancellor. We will follow proper procedure." Xacor pulled out a datapad and placed it on the desk. "This contains all the charges levied against former Jedi Qui-Gon Jinn and the Jedi Council's final determination."

As Palpatine began to read, from out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Jedi spreading out, their movements causing the surrounding Republic guards to back away slightly - not enough to alarm but they did seem to be creating space to maneuver. It felt wrong; it felt like they were planned something.

And then, as he kept reading, he realized why.

Impossible!

The fools, the damnable, slimy muck-worms, had found Jinn innocent on all charges.

This was too much. They deserved to be evicerated, using all the powers at his command to torture them until they screamed out the end of their pitiful lives, until there was nothing left but bone and steaming meat.

Vermin, every last one of them.

However, much as he wanted to destroy the lightside scum, now was not the right moment. Instead, in a clear, sharp voice, he said, "Is this some kind of sick joke? Because if it is, it is in poor taste."

Xacor straightened, looking impossibly smug. "Not a joke, Supreme Chancellor. After looking over the evidence, the Jedi Council has dropped all charges with regard to former Jedi Qui-Gon Jinn. As you know, as per Republic order AA-6827, the Jedi Order has jurisdiction over former members of the organization and their determination is final. He is hereby released from our custody."

Palpatine wanted to gut the damned fool.

He'd been outplayed. By Jedi. All his work to arrange Jinn's death had come to nothing. Those self-righteous insects!

But before he could say anything else, a collective howl of anger shot through the room.

The Senators and their parasites were all sound and fury, their fists or claws or suckertips waving around frantically as if they were ready to deal their own rough justice. Obviously, once their small minds had caught on to what the Jedi were saying, they must have realized that there would be no execution today, at least not an official one.

The rabble were ready for blood and they would not be denied.

Even Zaros, idiot that he was, shouted, "This is an outrage. You've gone too far, Jedi."

At least the overdressed fool was good for something. Palpatine's perspective sharpened from fury back into retribution. It was possible that he could play the Senators after all and get them to kill Jinn for him. Being torn apart by an angry mob was almost as good as torturing Jinn himself - almost.

Glancing back at Xacor and Sle'fey and the rest of the Jedi, he could see the apprehension growing on their faces. They must have realized that they were greatly outnumbered, not just with the Republic guards but surrounded by beings out for revenge. Their hands dropping down to their sabers, the Jedi looked as if they were preparing for a fight.

He had to admit, though, that Xacor was calm enough when he said, "If you would remove the cuffs, Obi-Wan, Master Jinn is free to go."

"Stop!" Freeing Jinn was the last thing Palpatine wanted. "I forbid it."

Kenobi acted as if he hadn't heard a thing he'd said. The Knight reached for Jinn's Force cuffs and it was only a quick reaction of one of the guards, his pike at the ready, the threat clear, that prevented Jinn's liberation.

Almost instantaneously, Kenobi's saber was in his hand, still unlit but his thumb hovered over the switch. The man looked ragged, almost savage, certainly unbalanced. If Palpatine hadn't had his own problems, he would have been amused. Kenobi was obviously having problems with control - a thing to exploit under other circumstances.

On the other hand, Sle'fey acted as if he wanted to diffuse the situation. He said softly, "It will be all right, Obi-Wan. I promise you."

Kenobi's look of pure disbelief was a thing of beauty. For a moment, Palpatine thought that he would ignore the Jedi Master's words but finally Kenobi nodded, lowering his saber. He couldn't help but notice that the Knight was frowning sharply, his face white with hostility.

"Supreme Chancellor, you have no authority in this matter," Sle'fey protested. Then he turned to the guard and said, "Stand aside."

So it would appear that the Jedi were actually going to try and defy him after all. They were in for a rude awakening.

As expected, the guard only shook his head at Sle'fey's command and remained where he was. Palpatine's guards were hand-picked for loyalty and the brute was certainly doing his job well.

It was a stand-off. The Jedi would not dare to maim a member of the Republic guard doing his duty; it would not look good in the eyes of the Senate and it would certainly be used against them in the next round of dismissals.

It didn't matter. The Jedi were doomed. They didn't even realize how close they were to extinction. Fools - refusing to use the Force for their own ends, ignoring infinite power for small-minded compassion. They deserved their fate.

The rest of the room had quieted by now; the Senators and their lackeys were standing there, waiting. It would appear that the rabble wanted to see how he would play the situation before they took matters into their own hands. Besides, if he would be the one to have Jinn executed, they would not have to soil their worthless reputations. Miserable cowards, the lot of them.

He did not let his audience wait long. "This is absurd, Sle'fey. He murdered Sera Tharten in cold blood. You told me that yourself."

Sle'fey glanced back, looking at the tense crowd before he turned to him and barked out, "The holovids proved otherwise." Leaning forward, paws splayed on the desk, he said loudly, "In fact, she explained herself quite thoroughly in the vids before she died, Chancellor."

What was the rsshak slime talking about? Explanations? This was no longer about the execution of a simple-minded ex-Jedi. Sle'fey, truly devious as only a Bothan could be, was planning something.

Indeed, the Force was growing darker, more dangerous by the moment. There was something there that couldn't be ignored, something that was vital to his future and the future of the Sith. He could feel it.

It all hinged on Sera Tharten.

That muck-brained little fool could not have betrayed him. She didn't have had the nerve.

But if she had, then he'd better make sure the Jedi would be in no position to accuse him of anything.

"Master Tharten was murdered and you have just let her killer go. I have to wonder if the Jedi are capable of judgment in this. Or anything else, for that matter. Justice will be served." He leaned forward, staring directly into Sle'fey's eyes. "With or without the Jedi Order."

The Bothan animal ignored the obvious threat, instead shoving a data crystal at him. "She was going to assassinate Qui-Gon Jinn. Acting under the direct orders of a man who called himself...," his voice lowered into accusation, "Darth Sidious."

For the merest faction of a second, Palpatine was taken aback.

Tharten had betrayed him. She had betrayed _him_.

If she weren't already dead, he'd have shredded her worthless carcass until there was nothing left but a few bone fragments and a pool of blood on his carpet.

Behind his Palpatine facade, his fury began to claw at his shields, his mind screaming obscenities. He wanted to destroy them: the Jedi, the insects in the Senate, that corpulant mudfowl, Zaros - wipe them out, every last one of them. They deserved annihilation and he would be the one to deliver it.

But the time was not just yet. And so with wild rage beating against his chest, he continued to show only a placid face and mild eyes.

It was no small feat, even for him.

Sle'fey seemed to be more perceptive than most. Nodding, radiating self-satisfaction, the Bothan scum looked as if he'd been expecting just such a reaction, as if he'd seen beyond the mask.

"He is a Sith Lord, Chancellor," Accusation in his beady eyes, Sle'fey stared down at Palpatine and said flatly, "An enemy of the Jedi and the Republic."

"The Sith have been extinct for a millennium." His voice sharp with scorn, Palpatine shot back, "Or would you have us believe in tales told to frighten little children?"

In the crowd, there was a choking noise and several sharp whispers. But he ignored them. He had more important things to deal with.

The Jedi scum were planning something. The Force was growing agitated, the darkness churning in the murky currents, warning him of danger. It was coming and fast.

"He's real enough." Xacor said flatly.

Sle'fey shrugged and pointed to the data crystal. "You might want to look it over carefully. I've sent a copy to the Judiciary Department. I am sure that they will be very interested in what she had to say." He shifted back, looking like he was ready to go into battle, standing there fingering his saber as he watched Palpatine. "We've also forwarded the other information on Sidious that we found in Master Tharten's files."

"Files?"

He couldn't believe it. That muck-brained Tharten had files.

On Darth Sidious.

He should have killed her when he had the chance.

"Yes, Supreme Chancellor." Sle'fey was too calm, too sure of himself as he said, "Files that will prove that you conspired with Master Tharten to murder Qui-Gon Jinn."

There it was - the danger to him and all his plans.

The Jedi had been more observant than he'd expected. He thought it had been beaten out of them long ago. Rsshak scum.

He could deny it, of course. But there was an easier way. All he had to do was blame the self-righteous Jedi.

"Files that will prove that you have been an accomplice to the murder of over a thousand former Jedi in the last ten years."

Sle'fey was still mouthing accusations but Palpatine's rage was already morphing into plans, his mind weighing the consequences of various scenarios. The energy of the dark filled him and he used that to focus. It would be easy enough to push his enemies into making mistakes. They were incredibly short-sighted; he, on the other hand, took the long view.

He was not concerned with their so-called evidence and besides, it would be simple enough to prove that the Jedi had manufactured it all.

However, his supporters, the Senate rabble in the room, were looking increasingly worried, some of them glancing back at the exits and edging away from the Jedi. If things continued this way, he couldn't afford to let them escape. Eliminating them would be a minor nuisance but an acceptable loss of temporary allies. He might even enjoy it. He locked the escape routes, just in case.

But the Bothan animal kept prattling on, oblivious to the danger. "Files that will prove you've been slave trading against Republic law as well as other illegal activities ranging from making deals with the Hutts over the spice trade to diverting weapons systems to the Separatists. You've also been blackmailing and sometimes killing Senators and former Senators who have refused your demands."

There were a few gasps from the crowd. Some of the Senators in the room had been friends with those he had killed - not that it mattered. The dead had been useless fools and in his way.

"Files that prove you are Darth Sidious." Sle'fey's litany ground to a halt.

The scum had finally shut up.

"This is beyond belief." Palpatine straightened, staring at the Jedi. As he kept talking, he made sure his voice quavered, pitching it so that there was just the right balance of disgust and astonishment coloring it. "I had always tried to help the Order maintain their place in the Republic, even when others would have dissolved it entirely." He forced tears into his eyes, enough to look as if he'd been blind-sided by friends and was only now realizing the treachery. "And to lie... to fabricate such accusations in order to cover your own incompetence is beyond anything I would have imagined. You wound me deeply."

"Spare me the protestations, Chancellor. We have more than enough evidence to condemn you to the same fate you would have condemned Qui-Gon Jinn."

With one wave of his paw, Sle'fey signaled the Jedi forward. Several of them drew out their sabers, still unlit but in their hands. Kenobi tried to shove past the one man standing between him and Jinn but the brute just stood there, glowering. The other Jedi were more successful, slipping away from some of the other Republic guards and starting to cluster around his desk.

There was a clamor of alarm from the crowd; some of the Senators began skulking towards the exit. The puffed-up mudfowl, Zaros, was staring at him, mouth open in shock.

His guards were busy powering up their pikes, aiming them at the Force users, threatening them with deadly skill.

It was a tableau worthy of Sith Legend, that breathless moment before everything tipped into bloody war. The Jedi Order versus the Republic. The Jedi Order versus Darth Sidious.

_Perfect_.

"If you come with us now, I'm sure the courts will take your cooperation into consideration." Sle'fey was still looking quite smug; he must have been sure of himself but he would be in for a rude surprise.

"You have no right to come in here and make false accusations." He was still playing to the audience but a slight gesture and the traps were powering up. He had merely to push one button and the place would be saturated with death. "This is insane."

"The Jedi are still the guardians of justice, Chancellor Palpatine, and we will deliver you to the courts for trial - with or without your consent. Security Act or not, you've gone too far. " Sle'fey must have realized something was wrong because he looked suddenly wary. But he only said, "You are under arrest."

They had gotten in his way for the last time.

He stared up at Sle'fey, secure in the knowledge that everything was being recorded. He'd release the audio later, spliced, of course, after everyone in the room had been killed, his guards cut down by sabers as they defended him, the Senate muck-worms destroyed in the heat of battle. The outcry would be enormous, the Jedi Order declared outlaw, swept away by their own foolish actions.

At last, their destruction was at hand.

"They're trying to take over the Republic," he shouted, a frightened plea quavering in his voice.

Scum all, the Jedi merely looked confused and the Senate fools more so. Did they think so little of him that they thought he'd go without a fight?

Sle'fey barked out, "Chancellor, you....."

Palpatine shrank back, waving his hands in front of him as if to stave off an attack. "Guards, help! They are trying to kill me."

"Chancellor, enough of this." Xacor came up to Sle'fey's side, his saber at the ready but still unlit. "You are under arrest."

"They are insane." He began to wail, as if he were terrified for his life. "Help me!"

The Republic guards surged forward, their pikes crackling with energy, aiming for the Jedi. One of them shouted, "Get away from him." Then shoving his weapon forward, he jabbed at the Zabrak Master.

Not fast enough, the energy charge caught Xacor along one arm and he dropped back, grunting in pain.

_Snap-hiss._

The strident sound of igniting lightsabers was all it took.

Chaos erupted across the room - electro-pikes spitting furious energy, Senate fools screaming as they panicked and ran for the exits, the thud of overturned chairs, the sharp shattering discord of breaking glass.

Watching the pandemonium, Sidious smiled satisfaction. But he thought he should add one last touch. In a quavering, terrified voice worthy of a holovid star, he wailed out, "Rebels! Assassins! Help, they are trying to kill me."

Then he sprung the traps.

Lightning ripped across the air, the blue light crackling madly as it seared through flesh and bone. And, too, did plasma energy beams, brilliant blasts of red fire, plunge into vulnerable bodies. There was the pure, sensual sound of agony and the satisfying rattle of beings breathing their last.

The room was filled with the dying and the dead.

He had won. And it was glorious.


	70. Chapter 36: Dance Macabre

**Chapter 36 - Dance Macabre**

Death was rocketing toward them.

Anakin stepped back, staring at the Treadwell as it tumbled madly through the air, its mechanical arms whipping about in a frenzy, its bulk careening into equipment and roof supports as it traveled the length of the barn. In its wake, a destructive chain reaction of metal and biologicals and half-shredded boards wrecked havoc as everything collapsed into chaos.

Yet despite every obstacle, the Treadwell kept on coming.

Beyond it, behind it, Anakin could almost see the great tidal wave of darkside energy gathering up the wreckage, a thousand sharp edges and shattered parts, and pushing it towards them.

And somewhere in the gloom, a monster in black and red, was laughing.

Anakin's vision began to tunnel. That rsshak slime was mocking them, mocking him. Furious, he ignored the noise of collapsing droids, deranged glee, and exploding debris. He ignored the mountain of destruction bearing down on them both. He ignored the bright light of Windu's blade whirling in the darkness and his own lightstaff strobing madly in his hand.

He could only think of one thing - the murderer would pay for this, would pay for everything.

It was more than calling him Windu's pet or laughing at him. He'd hurt Le'orath, maybe killed her and he'd killed many others, Bendu and innocents alike, even Jedi. He would make sure the demon from hell didn't escape again and not even a storm of droid parts and rubble would stop him.

It was justice, not revenge that drove him, no matter what Windu might say.

Now the harsh whisper of righteous rage, seductive and strong, was growing. He could feel the strength of it, feeding on his determination, fueling his power. And he gathered it into himself; he knew he would need it to overcome that Zabrak slime. Another small voice in the back of his head was warning him that power was not enough, that rage was of the dark, but he shook it off.

Now was not the time for doubt, not with danger coming toward him at breakneck speed.

Gathering the Force, the immense energy surging under his grasp, he raised one hand in front of him, and shoved it back toward the debris storm. Invisible to the eye, he could feel it growing like a tidal wave and meeting the wreckage head on.

Shattered parts and the bulk of the Treadwell slammed into the barrier. For a brief moment, it looked like it would not be enough. The debris was bulging toward him like some great hand pushing against melting flimsiplast. The sound, too, was hideous as more and more of the wreckage piled into the invisible wall of Force energy.

He couldn't hear Windu but he knew the man was saying something, shouting at him. He didn't dare answer, instead poured ever more energy into the battle.

And then everything, jagged metal parts and mechanicals and dirt, crashed to the ground. The sound of it filled the gloomy air.

He sent a frantic glare toward Windu, just in time to see the man lowering his arm.

As the noise subsided, Anakin could hear soft crying in the distance, a child's grief. Now that the Zabrak's attack had been foiled for the moment, he worried about Ben. The boy was stubborn and reckless at times. Ben might try and come out of his hiding place, might go after the monster who had hurt his mother and Anakin knew it would be disastrous if he did. They wouldn't be able to protect him and take down the killer at the same time, not without a great deal of luck.

Anakin didn't believe in luck. Apparently, neither did Master Windu.

"Ben, stay where you are." Hardly above a whisper, the man managed to make it sound like a command. There was a sniff of protest but it quickly subsided when Windu said, "We'll be as quick as we can but you have to stay hidden. It's important. You have to promise me, Ben."

"Yes, sir." The kid sounded scared.

Anakin didn't blame him but he was also relieved that Ben hadn't argued harder to help them. He certainly didn't want him to get in the way of this fight. There was too much potential for the boy to get hurt or killed. It was already more than a little dangerous, even with one of the finest swordsman in the Bendu group by Anakin's side.

Now Windu turned on him. Winter cold, he said sharply, "Anakin, the dark side won't defeat him."

"Master, I didn't...." He wanted to explain, wanted to tell the Bendu that it hadn't been darkness but justice motivating him. He didn't have a chance to finish because there was another crash of something at the far end of the building.

Contemptuous laughter echoed past, filling the barn with scorn.

"Perhaps I will have some sport after all," the voice sneered out. Waves of darkness were flowing into the Force, muddying his senses and Anakin couldn't pinpoint the Zabrak's location. "Your little pet may have a few paltry tricks, Windu, merely child's play. Shall I gut him for you as I did the woman?"

A growl rumbled deep in Anakin's throat. In some remote part of his mind, he realized that his hands were aching; he was holding his lightstaff so tightly that he could feel the carvings imprinted into his skin. Hatred and a growing need to destroy the rsshak slime shook him to his core.

Windu must have sensed it. He was shaking his head. "Focus, Anakin."

"I am focusing." He tried not to sound furious but now was not the time for a damn lesson. "I'll go right and flush him out. You be ready...."

"He's playing you, Skywalker." Distaste colored Windu's voice, frowned across his face.

It was almost too much. Anakin had been trying to do the right thing and all he got was condemnation.

He pushed down at the fury pounding into his heart, beating at his brain. He didn't believe Windu's claims that the monster was just trying to get to him, just trying to make him angry enough to make a mistake. He had felt the truth of what the slime had said, that he'd gutted Le'orath and laughed while he did it.

"Skywalker...."

"Don't!" Anakin did not want to hear one more word. A single breath from that sanctimonious overbearing man and he'd leave him behind and finish off the murderer all by himself, vision be damned.

But Windu didn't know when to shut up. A snarl of whispered orders, and Anakin had had enough. Ignoring him, he started to turn away. He was going to find the Zabrak and kill him and Windu could shout himself hoarse for all he cared.

Anakin sent his senses outward into the thickening shadows, looking for the center of it, knowing that the corrupt darkness would tell him exactly where the enemy was hiding. Then as he probed, he found the slime, could feel the murderer beginning to move toward Anakin's location.

He tried not to gloat. There would be time enough for that later. Instead, he pulled himself upward, began to twirl his lightstaff as though to taunt his opponent, twisted forward to meet his fate.

And his stupidity almost cost him everything.

The Force shrilled a warning, giving him only nanoseconds to duck.

Then there was no time left at all.

A storm of metal shards sliced the air and embedded themselves into the wall behind him. For a brief moment, he didn't feel anything, thought the Zabrak had been stupid enough to miss him. After all, Anakin was one of the best Bendu apprentices at the Sanctuary and he was unmatched with a lightstaff. Surely he'd managed to destroy everything in his path and remained unscathed.

Then agony blossomed in his left arm.

Frowning down, he realized that he was pinned to the wall with broken droid parts. He'd managed to evade most of it. But he could feel the daggered metal cutting into muscle, see the blood soaking his sleeve. And the pain, his arm felt as if it were on fire.

He was in trouble.

Distantly, he could hear Windu shouting. But Anakin felt strange, black spots annoying his vision, an angry buzz whining in and out just beyond his reach. He blinked furiously, hoping to clear his head of confusion. There was a monster about to kill him and he couldn't afford to lose focus.

He began to pull frantically at his arm, the pain driving him further into dark-edged bewilderment, his mind turbulent with warning. His right hand moved up; his lightstaff blazed with green light as he waved it drunkenly toward the growing danger.

The scene blurred for a second and then there was a sweep of red fire coming toward him.

In that instant, he knew he was going to die. And the realization that he'd failed Qui-Gon, failed Le'orath, failed Ben was almost more than he could bear.

But as he flinched, waiting for the blow, suddenly Windu was there.

Purple blazed across Anakin's perception. Mace shoved the Zabrak back with a vicious sweep of lightstaff and pure power. Anakin watched as he matched the killer, thrust for thrust. The dip and lift of colors were blinding, the plasma arcing between the blades a roar of sound.

As Anakin's vision began to clear, he could see the killer giving way, his snarled fury cutting the air. Windu was forcing him back and back, was pushing the bantha slime at every turn, drawing him away from Anakin.

It was a brave thing to do and foolish.

Master Windu needed backup; he'd not be able to destroy the creature on his own. Anakin's visions had shown him that.

Struggling to remain calm when all he wanted to do was rush into battle, knowing that every second was a second closer to destruction, Anakin pulled at one of the twisted metal shards pinning him in place. And with a fierce tug, the piece came free.

Pain flared bright as blood.

He ignored it, ignored the black spots that threatened to pull him into unconsciousness. He didn't have time. Impatient, he pulled the second piece of Treadwell out of his flesh, flung it to the ground. His fingers felt wet and warm, slippery with hurt and his arm was near-useless; all he could feel as he moved was thin-wire agony.

But he was free. Free to stumble forward like a damn crècheling. Weak and worthless.

Not for long. Anakin grabbed the Force with everything he had in him, used it to shove the pain aside, to push it into a little corner of his mind he could ignore it for now. No matter how much the agony might shriek across his skin. He would pay later, when he had time but Mace needed him. Le'orath needed him. And Ben.

The few moments he'd taken were costly, however.

Windu was at the far end of the barn, battering at the Zabrak but even Anakin could see that he was tiring a bit.

The monster was not letting up, seemed to be reveling in his fight. The ghastly grin on his tattooed face was almost rabid with enthusiasm. When Mace sent a purple sweep aiming for the slimo's belly, he leapt high, reaching the second level and leaned against one of the vertical beams. Tattered black cloth and mottled skin and that damnable smile, he stared down at Mace and chuckled. "Is this the best you can do, Windu? I'd heard such praise of your talents. I am.... disappointed."

There was no reply. Anakin half-staggered toward the pair but Windu waved him back. They both knew that the Zabrak's position gave him the advantage. High ground would be easy to defend. But they could not let him go, no matter what.

"A final warning. If you surrender now," Mace said calmly, "I will guarantee you a fair trial."

The slimo just laughed, mocking him with yellow-hate eyes. "I doubt if your little pet would agree."

"Surrender and you have my word." Anakin just wanted to tear the monster apart and there was Master Windu negotiating. He didn't think he'd understand the Bendu Champion in a thousand years. But the slight lull meant that he could inch forward and maybe knock out the beam holding up the loft above, maybe bring the Zabrak to ground.

"Jinn's whore screamed well enough. But Windu, your woman," another chuckle and then he said, warmly, "and those pathetic brats of yours might give me more sport."

The Force was a sudden chaotic swirl of reds and dead blacks and cold, so cold. Shivering, Anakin turned a startled eye toward Windu. Even at this distance, he could feel the fury radiating off him but just as quickly, it vanished. There was still a hard set to his eyes and a thunderous frown on his face but it would seem the Bendu Champion had control again.

"Their rotting corpses will make fine additions to my Master's collection."

The killer kept trying to goad Windu, obviously hoping to drive him back into fury but without success. Mace's voice was flat and sure. "Surrender. I won't ask again."

The black-shrouded Zabrak was still laughing when Windu made his move.

Durasteel balance bars and exercise rings, used for training and chained high in the vaulted ceiling, began to plummet, swaying wildly as they reached the end of their tethers and then swinging, curving up toward the second level where their enemy stood. And as Anakin watched, Windu leapt high, his lightstaff a brilliant sheet of purple light.

The Zabrak jerked backwards, obviously thinking that Windu was going after him.

But instead, Mace swept through the balance bars, cutting them, halving them all, and melting the rings into sharp slag. The durasteel groaned as the pieces cooled but the attached chains kept them from crashing to the ground. Windu sent a wave of Force energy toward the ruined equipment and all at once, half-melted chunks of metals were swinging wildly, back and forth, up toward the second level where the killer waited. A curtain of giant elongated beads shuddering in the wind.

It was almost comical to see their enemy trying to avoid getting hit by the heavy objects. His lightstaff was busy, coloring everything in a red haze. But slicing through the durasteel didn't reduce the danger, only increased the random nature of it all.

It also gave Anakin a chance to go on the offensive. Rushing forward, his lightstaff ready, he began to push biologicals and the remnants of shattered machinery into the air, creating a storm of debris that he sent crowding toward the Zabrak.

The killer snarled his annoyance and began to shove back, using the Force and flattened droid parts as shields against the blast of wreckage and swaying metal. But it seemed to be taking its toll on the creature. For all his bravado, he didn't seem to handle multiple attacks well this time around.

Anakin let himself feel a moment of deep satisfaction before rushing forward. Perhaps they would destroy the rsshak slime after all.

Windu was already in motion, grabbing onto one of the chains and using it to swing himself up to the second level. Far enough away from their enemy and out of the main target area of debris, he dropped lightly onto the floorboards. His purple lightstaff was brilliant in the shadows as he began to run toward the Zabrak.

Wanting to shout to Windu not to approach the killer on his own, to wait for him, but knowing it would just distract the man, Anakin growled his impatience. It was clear that he would have to stop what he was doing. Sending wave after wave of scrap toward the killer would just wipe out any advantage it had brought to the fight.

But that didn't mean that he'd stand aside and let Windu attack the Zabrak alone.

Avoiding the still-swaying metal, Anakin gathered power into his hands and flung himself upward, landing at almost the same point Windu had been moments earlier. The pain he'd been ignoring so well flared suddenly, and black spots were beginning to threaten behind his eyes. But he shoved it all aside. There wasn't time.

Mace was already fighting the slimo, trading blows almost too fast to see. The glare of purple and red was a residual wash of brilliance in the darkness and they were both hidden behind it; Anakin could track better the echoes of plasma spitting hate than clearly see what was going on.

But even the sounds were desperate. Windu needed him.

The second floor was a narrow space, used mostly for storage and this day wasn't any different. Anakin had a balance his way along the edge, hurrying, all the while trying to figure out how to get past the Zabrak and box him in. There wasn't enough room to leap over him and attack from the rear. And Mace was driving the killer back all on his own.

All Anakin could do at the moment was distract the Zabrak.

With a concerted Force effort, he pulled on the chains, sending the metal slag soaring upward once more. Aiming straight for the killer, toward his back, toward his head, any vulnerable part that could be used to disable him.

The tattooed being must have felt the change, almost turned to combat the new menace and in that instant, Mace cut the Zabrak's lightstaff in half, straight down the center, at its most vulnerable point.

Anakin wanted to cheer. The slimo would be powerless against them now.

But the sound of triumph strangled in his throat. He barely had time to breathe before the Zabrak was pressing his attack again, battling Mace with all the power of the dark.

"Look out!" Shouting a warning, there was little else Anakin could do but stand there and watch in horror.

It wasn't possible. Instead of melted electronics or the sputtering of a single blade, the killer now had twin sabers, both still working, both still deadly. It shouldn't have happened. The weapon should have been rendered useless. Not like this. It wasn't possible!

Mace was in trouble.

A lightstaff was no match for dual sabers wielded by someone so well-trained. And Mace didn't have time to uncouple his own weapon and change it into two blades or else reach for the second lightstaff still tucked into his belt.

Anakin grew desperate. Somehow he had to help Mace before it was too late. He grabbed at the half-melted training equipment with the Force, shoving them toward the Zabrak over and over again. But it didn't seem to faze the killer in the slightest. He was grinning that death's head smirk of his, avoiding all Anakin's attempts to dislodge or hurt him.

Frustrated beyond measure, he pushed at the slagged rings, at the metal bars even harder, more ferociously, hoping to do something to turn the fight around. But instead, the chaos of chain and durasteel began to twist into themselves, knotting, rendering them all but useless.

He didn't dare do more. He couldn't jump into the battle with his lightstaff in the narrow space, couldn't pull out his blaster and shoot the slimo for fear of hitting Mace or else having the bolts ricochet back. Instead, he did the only thing he could do – twist the latches on his lightstaff and pull it apart so that he had two lightsabers available to bring down the killer once he had the chance to get to him. All the while, he was looking around desperately for a chance to attack.

A single strand was starting to unravel from the knot of durasteel chains. He knew he had to try and catch the Zabrak before it was too late.

Using the Force, Anakin jerked the chain free, grabbing it, pushed off, swinging outward as fast as he could. He was just about to alight on the floorboards behind the killer and rush in to help when it happened.

It was almost too blinding, too fast to see. Blood-red seemed to encase the Bendu, the flash of purple plasma interrupting the corrupt flow almost as an afterthought. Even as Anakin jumped free, the crowd of heated strikes grew closer, more focused and intense. Mace had his staff holding back one red saber but he couldn't quite reach the second. And in a blinding flash, the black-clad monster cut into Mace's chest.

"No!"

It was his nightmare all over again.

Mace was falling, falling, furious red brilliance sliding through his chest and saber arm, blood boiling into a fine mist as he plummeted to the ground. The barn echoed with shredded screams and the hiss of a lightstaff still clutched in a cauterized hand.

Anakin felt rather than heard Mace hit the floor but the agonized cries turned into silence and the frantic buzz of plasma cut off abruptly.

He didn't dare look. The killer had twisted around, both of his sabers shrieking death; there was amused hunger in his eager eyes.

"Your turn, little pet," he laughed, mocking him.

Furious with grief and the knowledge that he was likely going to die in the next few moments, Anakin snarled back, "Come and get me, slimo."

Then he jumped down, out of reach. He wasn't going to make his death easy or quick and maybe, just maybe he could take the Zabrak with him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the tattooed monster following. Already moving, Anakin leapt over Mace's still form, tried to ignore the bubbles of blood frothing at the open wounds in the Bendu's chest, tried not to vomit at the sight.

He needed a clear space. If it was going to be a fight to the death, at least he would show that damn fiend a thing or two.

At the center of the barn, he turned around, thumbed on both sabers and stood there, watching his fate approach.

The gloom had deepened and he could hear rain beating on the roof high above his head. The storm must have arrived while they were fighting and it seemed appropriate now, that the last thing Anakin would ever hear was the sound of falling water. He would have almost smiled at the irony if the situation hadn't been so dire.

The Zabrak was stalking closer, looking so much the predator that Anakin shivered. The feral grin on his face, the way he spun each saber around spoke of hunger, of a lust for destruction unheard of among the Bendu. His yellow-hate eyes promised agony.

"Foolish little boy," he snickered. "You should have run while you had the chance."

"Bendu don't run from the dark. They defeat it." Even to his ears, it sounded stupid, like a child playing the holovid hero. But there would be no stirring climax, no happy ending.

As Anakin straightened, his chin lifted in defiance, there was another mocking laugh and the Zabrak jumped for him.

Twin lines of blood-red light promising death, twisting, swirling in the shadows. Anakin's green blades were busy, blocking, staving off bright plasma in a whirlwind of heat, and choking terror. Saber light was everywhere, chaotic, hated, and the damn slimo wouldn't stop smiling.

Anakin stumbled backward, desperately trying to avoid getting skewered, wracking his brain trying to remember where Mace's body lay. He didn't need to trip over him. He was having enough problems just staying alive.

Back and back, frantic, growing more furious with every blow, Anakin was starting to shake. He'd lost a lot of blood and black spots threatened at the back of his eyes. But he refused to accept his defeat, refused to let this abomination win. He couldn't let him.

Circling around the barn's center, one taunting endlessly, the other defending as he tried to find a way to take the killer down, they were both so focused on their battle that nothing else mattered at that moment, not Mace lying motionless a few inches away from Anakin's feet, not Le'orath's fate or Ben's.

Anakin had to destroy him and soon, before his strength gave out.

Leaping forward, avoiding the twin slashes of bright plasma a hair's-breadth away, Anakin was frantic, looking for any way to bring down the slimo, pushing and prodding and letting his fury fill the universe.

And it was working. The killer began to back up, his smirk gone. Reacting, Anakin shoved one blade forward and another swiped toward the Zabrak's head, so close, burning skin and carving through one horn. Snarling rage, the black-clad being met both blades with his own and sliced…

Into Anakin's arm.

The agony was red-tinged, his body on fire, his vision blackened and falling fast into the void. Anakin let out a howl, his other hand convulsing on the saber hilt, swinging it wildly toward his enemy.

White noise, his throat raw with screaming. He couldn't think, he couldn't breathe and still he stepped forward, trying to destroy the one who had done this.

And in his confusion, as he charged the smirking animal, forced him back and back, there was a sound, the far-off impossible snap-hiss of a saber. Which couldn't be right because no one else was here but still he heard it and at the same moment, the Zabrak was screaming as the bright purple of Mace's blade sliced through his leg.

The slimo tilted sideways, burnt meat and the spray of misty blood and as the sound of Mace's saber died, Anakin had just enough sense to lift his lightsaber and drag his blade across the tattooed throat.

There was a moment of stillness, an infinity of surprise and fury as the universe held its breath.

And then the snarling head toppled off and rolled away into the shadows and the body folded into oblivion across Mace's blood-covered chest.

The murderer of Jedi and Bendu alike was dead. At last.

Anakin's world was still racked with pain, but black-tinged vision and the feeling of spiraling into unconsciousness sent adrenalin-panic skyward. Falling to his knees, gathering what little strength he had left, he pulled at the meaty corpse and dragged it off Mace's body.

Panting, his voice half-destroyed, he still managed to whisper, "Mace? Master Windu?"

Impossibly, the man was not dead, although the rise and fall of ragged breath was growing fainter with every moment. "Skyw…?"

"The killer's dead. But how?" Anakin knew there was only seconds but he needed to know. "You…."

"Force… needed…me… help… togeth…." Hitching breath and a shuddering rise. "Trust… in… Force, Skywa…."

There was only a slow exhale and then silence.

And Anakin slid into black oblivion.

*************************************

A slow drag upward. The sheeting agony of flesh cooked like meat.

Anakin didn't want to rise into awareness. That way lay pain and defeat and the knowledge that he hadn't been able to save….

Far off, or right next to his head, there were sounds of arguing and the whine of speeders nearby. His back hurt – odd since his arm was on fire and he felt bruises against his face.

More whispers. Calling for back-up and healers and fire-suppression units. Thunder in the distance and the smell of charred wood and rain.

Didn't want to think about what that meant.

He tried to turn over and found himself tight against straps. Never liked to be tied down and his brain kept yelling at him to wake up, that there was something to be done.

Ben.

He needed to get to Ben. He couldn't…

Qui-Gon would never forgive him.

Ben.

There was a cool spray of something against his neck and the fire in his arm subsided into mere pain. He blinked once, twice and damn if his mind didn't focus on the man looking down at him. Pavel, Parol… what was his name? He knew it, knew it well. And it was important to tell this person about Mace.

Somehow.

The man, Pavel or Parel or something, leaned forward, frowning. Mumbled nonsense about medication and arms and… he couldn't understand him but Anakin kept nodding.

And then his mind drifted clear. Mace, Mace had died and that monster, too. He needed to get to Ben; the kid was in the barn and he was probably crying.

Croaking out, Anakin said, "Ben, is Ben all right?"

Pavel, Pavel Janson, yes, that was his name, nodded. "Ben is fine. We've sent him to the Sanctuary. Your mom will be looking after him while you're at the healers."

Anakin relaxed, his brain starting to glide back into the shadows again where softness lay and the absence of pain. But there was something else, something about….

Fear cutting into his head, frantic, he struggled against the restraints. "Le'orath, she's… that slimo said he…."

Janson looked like he was going to vomit. He pushed Anakin back down and touched something cool to his neck again. The shadows drew closer. It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair to keep the truth from him. "Please, tell me. Is she…?"

"Anakin, she's alive but just."

The edge of his vision was blurring, black spots dancing in his head. He tried so hard to push it all away. "Alive?"

"Yes, Anakin, alive. She's on her way to the Healer's ward, now. She's badly burned but…" Janson wouldn't stop babbling but he kept getting smaller and smaller and Anakin wanted to sleep and it really wasn't fair because he wanted to know and….

* * *

**Author's note:** I've now caught up with what I've written and I'm a very, very slow writer. I'm going to apologize in advance for the long wait for the rest of it (two more chapters to completion) and it will be done. I will finish it. I will! It just may take a long time to update. But I am working on it.


	71. Chapter 37: The Will of the Force

**Chapter 37 - The Will of the Force**

In the distance, someone was screaming.

Trying to breathe, his arm on fire, his mind reeling, Obi-Wan felt as if he'd been shredded, as if every nerve had been fried in an electrical storm. He lay there for a moment, disjointed, confused. He didn't know whether he should try and get up or sink back into the abyss. But he knew he had to do something or be someone or rescue…

Deep groans off to his left, and beyond his blurred vision, a voice rose in terror. A sharp hiss, an off-pitched whine cutting through superheated air. A laugh, pleasure-filled and obscene.

The screaming stopped - abruptly.

The sounds almost didn't register, almost seemed part of a nightmarish vision from someone else's universe, one he could ignore if he would just let it. Just let it go.

But between one shuddering, pain-filled breath and another, his confusion cleared.

Palpatine.

They had to take down Palpatine or Sidious or… it didn't matter what he called himself. He was a Sith Lord.

That line of thought crystallized into certainty. If he didn't find the strength to get up and confront that madman, he never would. He'd be the next sacrifice in a sea of bloodied corpses. And he had very little time.

Every movement was an effort but somehow he was able to lift his head and push himself into a half-sprawled confusion of raw skin and agonized nerve endings. It hurt to breathe, to think, to be; black spots threatened to tunnel into his vision and there was a buzzing in his mind. Or was it from a lightsaber blade cutting the air?

He tried to shake his head, bring focus back to his mission but that wasn't exactly a good idea. His sight grayed, the pain trying to pull him back into unconsciousness. But he couldn't allow it, not now. Instead, he used all the powers under his command, used the Force and his own stubborn will to shove it aside, to lock his damnable weakness behind durasteel walls.

He found enough strength to twist upright, knees digging into the carpet, hands splayed wide to keep him from falling over. Ignoring the pain, he lifted his head and looked around.

Carnage shrouded the room. There were bodies everywhere, some moving, others still as death.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a few had escaped the hideous outpouring of destructive energy and even now were fighting for their lives near Palpatine's desk. Red saber fire and a bright flash and then there was a line of blue energy.

Someone was fighting hard to push back the Sith's blade and the bark of effort was Sle'fey's. Obi-Wan couldn't see Master Xacor anywhere but Rostak's green saber was brilliant in the room.

The Jedi seemed to be winning, after all.

There was a flash of satisfaction in his chest. A Jedi was taught from early childhood to ignore such a self-absorbed emotion but Obi-Wan reveled in it. It felt good, for once, to know that their efforts had not been in vain and Sidious, Palpatine, Sith Lord, whatever that madman's name truly was, would get what he deserved.

But the balance could shift again, all too easily.

Qui-Gon, Qui-Gon had to be his first priority. Obi-Wan could not feel him in the Force. The currents were too filled with corruption to see more than shadows but he knew his master was alive; he knew it. Now all Obi-Wan needed to do was find him, and release him from the binders before it was too late. And then join with the other Jedi to bring Sidious to justice. All it would take was effort - and luck.

He frowned, trying to get his bearings, trying to find Qui-Gon. His master had been further from the center of the firestorm than the others and half-shielded by the Senate guard when the attack came. That same guard was now a corpse, one among many.

One knee still pressed against the carpet, Obi-Wan balanced, struggled to get up. He needed to stand, the better to locate his master among the pile of bodies but before he could get to his feet, his eyes caught a glimpse of dark leggings and boots - they looked like Qui-Gon's, and the rest was hidden from view by the guard's large bulk. Beyond he could see Atel's saber.

Then, in a kind of nightmarish twist, the corpse began to move, writhing or was it a struggle to shove him aside somehow. Under the moans and another shriek of pain in the distance, Obi-Wan could hear Atel's soft voice. "Qui-Gon? Master?"

His chest burned with relief and he let out the breath he'd not realized he'd been holding. She was alive and from Qui-Gon's deep groan, it was apparent that he, too, had survived. It was more than he could have hoped for, more than he'd ever thought possible after the Sith's brutal attack.

Still balanced on one knee, he reached over, pulling at the guard's dead weight. It was a struggle. The body was caught on something and as he yanked hard, the corpse finally slid off. There was a soft wheeze and, as Qui-Gon struggled to sit up, his master whispered his thanks. Atel sent Obi-Wan a relieved look and turned to remove Qui-Gon's binders.

Somewhere behind him, there was a cackle of insane laughter and a wail of saber song. Too close but Sidious was shouting obscenities and there was a tangle of screams and snarls and the sharp spit of lightsaber battle.

Obi-Wan knew he had to get up. He was too vulnerable like this, kneeling on the carpet; his reactions were sluggish and weak. He must have been more injured that he'd thought. But Qui-Gon looked worse, the shredded tunic and the char of an energy bolt blackening his shoulder. Atel clutched one hand to her chest, luckily not the saber hand but it needed medical attention and she was pale with shock. But there was no time for healers.

"Take this." Reaching to his belt, he unhooked Qui-Gon's lightpike and shoved it into his hands. The older man would need it once the binders were off and his sense of the Force returned and Obi-Wan didn't know if he'd have another chance to give it to him once he'd entered the fight.

Qui-Gon nodded, blinking at the weapon in his hand, seemingly puzzled by it. It was worrisome. Perhaps there was head trauma on top of his other obvious injuries.

Before he could say anything else, Atel looked past his shoulder, her eyes widening in alarm. "Master!"

There was another bright flash of red light. Obi-Wan jerked back, getting to his feet just as a head bounced past, black blood spraying a gory trail.

Knight Rostak's skull split apart on impact.

Obi-Wan's saber was already lit when he wheeled around. That bit of inattention had almost cost Obi-Wan his life and he wasn't about to make the same mistake again. Confusion, the agony of lifting his shoulder, trembling from too much too soon, somehow he gathered strength enough to push it all aside.

He swallowed hard. He could now see that Master Xacor was slumped over the desk, either unconscious or dead. The other Jedi were scattered, unmoving in the wreckage, some of them in pieces.

But Sle'fey was still fighting the rsshak slime. Alone. Battling back and forth, Jedi and Sith, a blur of red and blue energy that cut into his vision.

Through it all, he could feel the Force, a roiling sea of black ooze and grief, intense flashes of brilliance amidst corpse shadows, a chaotic mixture of light and darkness. He'd used and obeyed the Force all of his life and now it was tainted beyond anything he'd ever imagined, Sith-corrupt. He could hardly bear to touch it.

But it would be madness to refuse.

As he leaped forward, hoping to help Sle'fey, he didn't have time to wonder who else had survived or who had died. While he was acting like a crècheling, hovering over those he loved, he had been ignoring his duty. Precious moments he could have used to help bring down Sidious.

Selfish, selfish fool that he was.

"Ah, Kenobi." The Sith laughed again, mocking, cruel, utterly sure of victory – and sent a great swipe of sick brilliance toward him. "Good of you to join us."

Filthy rsshak slime.

Fury flared in his gut but he ignored it. Now was not the time for thoughts of revenge nor would it help him in the fight with that corrupt grub-worm. Survival first, then he would see about bringing Sidious down.

Obi-Wan wheeled backwards, trying to avoid the Sith blade. But under his boot, there was something soft, a hand or perhaps entrails and he slipped. His balance unsteady, his arm flared in pain as he pulled at muscle and half-healed bone; his skin was intense with plasma burns. Luckily, Sle'fey was still there or else he would have been skewered.

He would have whispered his thanks if he had any breath to speak.

Instead, regaining his footing, he kicked behind him, desperately trying to clear space. The sprawl of bodies, Jedi, guards, Senate lackeys, was scattered around the room, broken dolls, once living beings but now just bloody obstacles in his path. It was difficult to defend himself with so much pain in the Force pulling at him; his focus kept wavering. Yet Sidious seemed to be reveling in the darkness, growing stronger and more confident with every passing moment.

Then there was no more time for thought. Sidious was a consummate swordsman, using every trick Obi-Wan had been taught and a few he'd never seen before to put both Jedi on the defensive.

Sle'fey shoved his blade high, obviously hoping to catch Sidious unaware but the Sith twisted around, using his saber to push him back. Obi-Wan stepped forward, fighting to give the Bothan master enough time to regroup, while he tried to figure out a strategy that wouldn't end with all of them dead and Sidious triumphant.

Qui-Gon was shouting something, but Obi-Wan couldn't take his focus away from the battle enough to listen, not for an instant. Instead he pushed himself further, trying to bring the Sith Lord down before anyone else got killed.

The air was ablaze with power. Obi-Wan's blade painted lines of blue fire in the growing shadows but Sith red was present time and time again, constantly on the attack. Blocking, parrying, going high and then low, his frustration, his exhaustion grew with every blow. He needed help and soon.

Another stumble and he could feel the Sith blade heating his skin as he twisted aside. That had been too close. A few millimeters to the right and Sidious would have ended Obi-Wan's life.

Blast him, where was Sle'fey?

From somewhere behind him, he could hear a weapon powering up. Qui-Gon's distinctive lightpike. It was too soon. His master would never be able to defend himself against a Sith without the Force to guide him. But Obi-Wan didn't have time to argue. He could only push Sidious back and hope it would be enough.

The Sith Lord must have realized how vulnerable Qui-Gon was. He stepped up the attack, trying to get to his master. A blur of red death in his hands, a feral smile on his face, he seemed exultant, almost euphoric as if he knew Obi-Wan would be helpless to stop him.

But then things only became worse and worse. Another shout and Atel was there.

Blasted girl. She wasn't ready to battle a Sith Lord, no matter how adept she'd been in the training rings. She hadn't the experience and now she was trying to protect them both. She'd only get herself killed.

With all the impetuousness of raw youth, she leapt forward ahead of Qui-Gon, shouting hoarsely, blade at the ready. "I won't let you hurt him. I…"

"Little fool." Sidious sneered, already waiting for her attack. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a wave of Force energy cresting toward her, throwing her into the air. Qui-Gon had just enough time to catch her and they both went down in a tumble of limbs and silenced lightsabers at the far side of the room.

Obi-Wan seized the moment, sliding his saber blade up the line of red light and singeing Sidious's forearm. There was a sharp hiss as the Sith jerked back. As he stepped forward, trying to press his advantage against the Dark Lord, Sle'fey was suddenly there again, hounding Sidious, keeping him off-balance.

As he roared toward them, rage swept across the Chancellor's face.

He was everywhere, red saber battling against blue blades. The brilliant light seared into Obi-Wan's vision; he tried to blink away the pain, struggled to focus on battling the Sith. Somehow the area around their feet was free of bodies and Obi-Wan didn't have to worry about stepping on soft corpse-flesh but trying to keep from getting killed was taking all his concentration.

Worse, the agony in his shoulder had returned. It was making him sluggish, distracted. He didn't know how long it would be before his focus collapsed and his life ended with the turn of a lightsaber blade.

"Master!" The sound of her voice filled him with dread.

It hadn't been enough that she'd been flung aside, out of the line of fire. Now, Atel had scrambled back somehow, over the pile of corpses, and was ready to defend him, ready to take down the Sith Lord, danger be damned. Sweeping her lightsaber back and forth, threatening Sidious's flank, she was daring that monster to go after her.

Obi-Wan couldn't allow it. She would be cut to ribbons.

Before he could say anything, do anything to make her back off, in that instant, Qui-Gon was there again, a bright light in the Force at last. Off to one side, just at the edge of his vision, Obi-Wan could see his old master struggling toward them, limping badly but with lightpike at the ready, hastening to meet the threat. Injuries or no, he knew that Qui-Gon would join him, even if there were no chance for victory. But at least he had the Force to guide him this time.

When Qui-Gon slotted into place next to him, Obi-Wan knew that the Dark Lord of the Sith was trapped at last. Four lighted sabers surrounding the scourge at the center of the universe.

Darth Sidious.

Everything stopped and in that breathless moment, there was a crystalline stillness, as if they were waiting for the storm to break and tear them all into pieces.

Palpatine stood there, lightsaber tip pointed down toward the ground but not off. Looking around, he shrugged and a gentle smile, so grandfatherly, so understanding and mild, resurfaced. "My friends, we seem to be at an impasse."

Obi-Wan was livid. The man was a consummate actor. How he could stand there, cool as water, and act as if they were merely having a minor disagreement was beyond his comprehension.

"Chancellor Palpatine, you are under arrest for the murders of Master Xacor, Knights Rostak and Derst and complicit in the deaths of several Senators as well as members of the Jedi Order and other innocents in this room. I suggest that you submit." As he spoke, Sle'fey's fur was raised high, swirling madly with fury; Obi-Wan had never seen him so distraught but his lightsaber blade was steady and his voice was cold. "I… would delight in killing you here and now. Please - give me an excuse."

Palpatine's smile turned reptilian, triumphant, looking as if he held the upper hand and this was nothing but an inconvenience. "I am appalled at the insinuation, Master Jedi. It was self-defense, not murder."

"While Zak was barely conscious and unable to defend himself, you gutted him and left him to die. Master Zak Xacor." Sle'fey's expression frosted into ice. "He never had a chance. So don't bother lying, _Chancellor_."

"He was scum." A low rumbling sneer and Sidious was staring at them all as if he were about to crush them under his boot – and enjoy it. A predator toying with prey. "Hardly worthy of my notice. An insect asking to be obliterated."

Looking furious enough to forgo any pretense at justice, Sle'fey's claws tightened on the lightsaber hilt and there was the slightest tremble in the blade but he only said, flatly, "He was the finest Jedi I'd ever known and my friend."

"Finest?" Looking around at the four of them, Sidious laughed, a delighted, mocking sound. "His skills were pathetic at best. Jedi standards must be quite lax for him to have become a Master." Then his mouth quirked upward, his eyes sharp with disdain. "Unless you trained him, Sle'fey. That would certainly explain his inability to…."

Sle'fey didn't give him time to finish. Bringing his blade a few centimeters closer to Sidious's skin, the threat was clear. "The saber, Chancellor. Last chance."

"Surrender, to _you_? A Bothan rodent, not worthy of licking my boots? I think not. And as for the rest of you…."

Blackest poison jetted out into the Force, clouds of shadow and pain and despair spilling out into endless night. A thousand agonies, echoing over and over until it seemed to fill the universe. Obi-Wan felt rather than heard the Force command Sidious sent out but as he thrust his saber forward, hoping to destroy the Sith before another moment could pass, something shoved into him.

A hand, torn and bloody and behind it bodies began to rise and weapons the dead guards had held, decorations and the shattered remnants of sculpture. It was as if the entire room was a cyclone of disemboweled corpses and the debris of Sith hatred. Moans grew as those who could still feel pain, were still alive, were used as bludgeons against the Jedi.

It was utter madness and through it all, profane laughter echoed triumphant in the Force.

A deep whimper sounded as a half-dead body tumbled past. Bile rising in his throat, for just an instant, Obi-Wan struggled with the knowledge that he'd have to kill innocents to get to Sidious and take him down.

There was no choice. The Sith Lord had to be destroyed or he'd send the galaxy into darkness for all eternity.

As another body clipped Obi-Wan, he staggered back under the onslaught. Charred hands clutched at him, and there was an agonized cry for help. He didn't recognize the man. He only knew that his fingers were caught on the gold bullion of a shredded vest, were roughened against the sharp edges of gemstones, and the blood-bruised face looked familiar somehow. He didn't think to ask his name, didn't have time to show compassion for the wounded; instead he just shoved him aside, reached for Sidious instead.

Qui-Gon was already there, slashing first at bloody meat and transparasteel shards and then battling Sidious. The Sith's saber was stark against green and, with a great shove, Sidious forced him away.

Atel jumped into the breach, trying to cut across his legs, apparently hoping to bring him down but another body slammed into her and she fell back. But not for long. As Qui-Gon began to recover, Atel was there again, her blade clashing with the Sith blade, a brilliant flash of light painting her face crimson.

Splattered with blood, Sle'fey seemed tireless, relentless, trying to get in hit after hit while Sidious battled them all. But it was superficial damage, nothing that would end this conflict. The rich tunics that Palpatine wore were only singed and the few shallow lines of seared flesh did not hold the Sith Lord back.

Blast it all, Sidious was too fast for any of them.

As Sle'fey retreated, a stark line of burn across his fur, Obi-Wan shoved into the fight. His arm was on fire, the pull of muscle and half-healed bone almost unbearable but he refused to allow anything to come between him and that madman.

It was almost his undoing.

Extending his blade, the pain flared up abruptly, sending a sheet of agony across his chest and down his back. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything. Spasming, muscles torn from overuse, he curled inward slightly, and it was enough to signal the Sith that he was vulnerable, that he could be struck down with a single blow.

Sidious moved in for the kill.

"Look out!" Atel was screaming, jumping in front of him, protecting him, her saber blazing, all fire and determination. A warrior, a guardian, an almost-daughter protecting her father from harm. A Jedi.

It wasn't enough.

Mouth pulled back, a smile on his face and insanity in his eyes, the Sith Lord looked triumphant as he shoved his lightsaber into Atel's chest and out through the back.

No, no, no, no…. NO!

Bright death in a single blow. The rsshak slime didn't even bother to pull it straight out, just slashed through flesh and bone, Atel a melted doll collapsing away and no longer a threat. Sidious kicked at her ruined body, stepping on one outthrust hand and began jabbing death at Sle'fey and Qui-Gon Jinn.

Struggling for air, her face agony-etched, she stared up into Obi-Wan's unbelieving face.

Blinking away at vision gone blurry with grief, shaking his head in denial of everything he'd seen, he looked away. He couldn't bear seeing her like that, couldn't bear to watch her gasping out her last breath - whispered, horror in his throat, "No, it can't be."

It was all his fault and he couldn't think about her looking up at him with such devotion. He didn't deserve it or her.

Somewhere in the room, under the sharp hiss of sabers battling and groans of the dying, there was a deep self-satisfied laugh. Sidious, it was Sidious reveling in Atel's death, delighting in it. And Obi-Wan couldn't... he couldn't….

The world went red.

Snarling madness, he turned, searching for Sidious amongst the carnage of broken bodies. He wanted desperately to crush that knowing smirk into the back of his braincase, pulp rising out to splatter the blood-red carpeting. He wanted Palpatine, Sidious, that sneering monster, to die in a thousand ways and through a thousand lifetimes for what he had done and Obi-Wan wanted to be the one to make it all happen.

"No, Obi-Wan. Stop!" He didn't listen to Qui-Gon's hoarse desperate plea. He didn't react to anything but the thought of Sith flesh melting under his blade.

It was impossible but the Sith seemed to grow stronger as Obi-Wan's fury grew. Almost as if Sidious was feeding on his anger.

Ignoring the warnings, ignoring the feeling of malice and corrupt satisfaction coming from that filthy grub-worm, Obi-Wan brought his saber up, slashing sharply through the heated air. He missed Sidious's head by a hair's breadth.

But as he lunged in to try and take the Sith Lord out again, he nearly skewered Sle'fey. Too close. A flash of startled eyes and white fur and Obi-Wan backed away.

Qui-Gon's blade went low, aiming for legs and vulnerability but Sidious was impossibly fast. There was only so much space and they kept getting in each other's way as they tried and failed to take out Sidious.

Looking down, his glance swept past Atel's pale face and grief stabbed through him again. Swallowing back the sorrow that threatened to overwhelm him, he poured more and more energy into the fight, his blade too fast to see, the tangle of sabers a brilliant blur of red and green and blues, the after-glow blinding him as he pushed and pushed.

Ignored Qui-Gon, ignored Sle'fey, ignored everything but taking down the Sith Lord.

Finally, finally, Sidious was beginning to tire. A slip and Sle'fey's blade did more than nick the skin, scorched a trail of fire down the Sith's arm. Qui-Gon took advantage and went again for the legs, cutting through almost to the bone before the Dark Lord spat his outrage and started to collapse.

Obi-Wan saw his chance, put everything of frenzy and fury and hopeless grief into one final effort and lunged true - stabbed through flesh and bone and black blood.

Into the heart of the Darth Sidious, Dark Lord of the Sith.

Looking almost surprised, his eyes glaring hate-yellow, Sidious fell back, his body sliding off Obi-Wan's blade. Still intact, still alive but not for long.

The Force was suddenly filled with fury, a thick profanity of pain and hatred so vast that it seemed never-ending, corruption mixing with icy revenge, loathing and putrification and the shadows of madness, darkness billowing black and more black, stealing all light. And shattering through it all, the screams of a thousand, thousand tortured beings, high-pitched wails that grew and grew and grew until it seemed to fill the universe with their cries.

Taken aback, he didn't see Sidious lifting one hand toward him, sending a blaze of blue lightning crackling across the air and into Obi-Wan's chest.

He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only feel his body convulsing in shrill agony, every nerve writhing in a fire of such unimaginable pain that it was almost pleasure. As he fell to his knees, Obi-Wan struggled to retain control, not to slide into the relief of unconsciousness, no matter how much he wanted it. He had to make sure Sidious would never hurt anyone ever again.

There was something, something he realized later was the sound of a lightsaber blade's angry hiss. But by then, he was too far gone to care. Unable to do more than collapse into a tight ball, Obi-Wan did not even see the blow that took off Sidious's head. He only knew that the blaze of Sith lightning was suddenly gone and he could breathe again.

The relief from pain was almost a torment. He lay there, trembling and exhausted and thoroughly numb, watching as Sidious's sneering face came to rest against Sle'fey's boot. There was blood and bone still steaming from the remnants of a saber blade before a cloth dropped over the gore but Obi-Wan couldn't bring himself to care.

"Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan, can you hear me?" Qui-Gon's soft voice sounded worried.

It took nearly all of his strength to look up into his master's worn face. The man looked ill, his tunic charred, a shoulder wound open and oozing. Qui-Gon was trembling, too, but at least he lived. He lived.

So many others had not, so many and she… he did not want to think about it but at least he should gather up the courage to go to her, watch over her body until it was time.

Ignoring Qui-Gon's question, he turned over, still hunched, still aching from the battle to end Sidious's life. Forcing himself to move, he rose up a bit, kneeling on that hard, red carpet, so full of blood and entrails and the remnants of death; he didn't have enough energy to stand but at least Atel's body was not far away. He could crawl to her and wait there until they took her to the Temple.

Qui-Gon must have understood. A hand offered and quickly withdrawn when he shook his head. His master didn't push to help him up, just seemed to accept that Obi-Wan was on the remnants of ragged strength, on the edge of despair. Qui-Gon walked slowly beside him, and didn't say a word.

She laid there, her face untouched but the ruin of her body was plain. A bright bubble of blood rose in her open mouth and her eyes were half-closed. She looked more at peace than he'd seen her in a very long time.

Another bubble and she was breathing, shallowly, impossibly still alive. "Atel? Atel?"

She was a dim spark in the Force and he knew she only had a few moments more. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, his almost-daughter, how much he'd hoped for them to remain connected even when she went off to do her own missions. He wanted to say so much but all he could do was rasp out, "I should have listened."

A small frown, her mouth grimacing in pain. "Master? I…"

And then she stopped. Eyes glazed over and there was silence and then the sound of last breaths, and the look on her young face as it melted into death.

Obi-Wan could only stare and watch her change into a shell, all light and life gone, knowing that he was powerless to prevent it. Leaning forward, he reached out and closed her eyes for the last time. "My fault, Atel, my fault. I should never have come back."

A large hand on his shoulder and then Qui-Gon was kneeling beside him, mourning, too. His voice was harsh with remorse. "It is not your fault. It is mine."

Too much, too much for him to cope. He was sick of death, sick of life, sick of faults and mistakes and the knowledge that he'd never see her again. His gangly, shy girl.

He curled inward, leaning his face against the carpet. Ignoring the agony of burnt skin and the pull of over-extended muscle, ignoring the smell of death and the soft moans of those still alive, ignoring everything except loss and endless grief, Obi-Wan wept.


	72. Chapter 38: Aftermath

**Chapter 38 – Aftermath**

**part 1  
**

Empty. All he felt was empty.

Exhausted, only half-aware of his own injuries and not particularly inclined to move even if he had the strength, Obi-Wan sat there, and tried not to think.

He was surrounded by bodies. Next to him, Atel sprawled, a lifeless corpse, her hand already cooling in his. In some corner of his mind, he supposed it was his duty to get up, to go help sort out this debacle, give aid to the survivors, cover the dead. But he couldn't leave her, not like this. And he was so tired.

Catching his eye, Qui-Gon gave him a sharp concerned look and then turned back to comfort one of the Senators who had a little earlier called for his Master's death. Even injured, his shoulder blackened, his movements slow and deliberate, still his old Master managed to show compassion for those who would have wished him harm. A true Jedi in every sense of the word.

Sle'fey, on the other hand, was rushing about, talking furiously into his comlink. All bustle and business, the Bothan didn't appear to be the least bit affected by the carnage. Master Xacor, supposedly Sle'fey's good friend, and the other Jedi were dead by Sidious's hand but he seemed to ignore the devastating losses. His fur was matted with blood and surely there were other injuries, hidden under his tunics. But his bark was still strong and his eyes clear and steady. He looked almost happy.

"Phen, we have at least 25 beings dead, Senators and bureaucrats as well as the Chancellor." Sle'fey stopped pacing for a moment, frowning down at the butchery around him, and then shook himself free and sank back into the manipulative slime Obi-Wan now knew him to be. "Yes, our sources were correct. He was a Sith Lord. There will be hell to pay but we still have a few people alive up here so send as many medivacs as you can."

Sle'fey must have noticed Obi-Wan looking at him. Scowling, his fur whirling slightly in agitation, he turned, facing him squarely, but continuing to answer whatever questions were being asked on the other end. "Of the twelve in our group, only three of us, Jinn, Kenobi and I, are still able to function." There was an almost imperceptible flash of sorrow in the dark eyes, so brief that Obi-Wan thought it might have been his imagination. "Most of the rest are dead, including Master Xacor, and some of the ones still alive may not survive."

Another nod as the Jedi Master said, "Be prepared to answer questions put to you by the Senate but stall as long as you can. I'll brief the Council when I return. Sle'fey out."

As he shoved his comlink into the fastness of his tunics, the Bothan watched Obi-Wan for a moment longer, looking for all the galaxy as if he were weighing his options and finding the balance unacceptable. Or finding him unacceptable - Obi-Wan wasn't sure which - but it didn't matter. He'd lost everything he'd ever held sacred and now there was nothing left. Sle'fey's little games meant nothing to him, less than nothing. All he wanted to do was sleep and forget what he'd done, what had been done to him - and to her.

Sle'fey must have come to some conclusion because his gaze flicked up toward the entrance to Palpatine's office. A rustling behind Obi-Wan and he twisted, not quite curious, to see the doors open and Senator Amidala sweep into the room.

"Chancellor, I…." She stood there, looking over the devastation, seemingly shocked for a moment, then straightening up, suddenly alert and obviously ready for anything.

Obi-Wan had read of her courage during the Siege of Naboo and she was showing it again. No frail blossom here. She looked pale but stood vigilant, her hand gripping a blaster that she must have concealed under those vast robes of hers. Obi-Wan hadn't even seen her reach for it. An able young woman.

Behind her stood a dozen armed Naboo and a few Republic guards trailing them.

"Qui-Gon? What happened here?" Her voice was sharp with concern and Obi-Wan could see that she was assessing the situation, weighing the hidden potential for danger against the need for helping the injured.

Before Qui-Gon could reply, Sle'fey hustled toward her, paws wide, all oily manipulation. There was just a hint of groveling in his voice. "Senator, how fortunate that you have arrived. There has been a situation. I've called for medivacs but if your entourage could help with the survivors, it would be most appreciated."

"Of course, Master Jedi." Nodding, she motioned her staff to fan out. The way the Naboo moved quickly to the few still breathing spoke of long experience with triage. The Republic guards stayed by the door, clearly protecting the exit, whether to keep the Jedi in or intruders out, Obi-Wan couldn't tell.

Trying again to engage her in conversation, perhaps divert her attention from the fact that there were so many dead or that Palpatine's half-covered head lay jumbled among the rest, Sle'fey started to thank her but she shrugged him off, turning to Qui-Gon instead. "Qui-Gon, please, what happened?"

His wound was still oozing at his shoulder, and as Qui-Gon stood up, to her credit, Senator Amidala winced in sympathy. "Padmé, it was a trap. Palpatine…."

Stepping further into the room, her hand out as if to meet Qui-Gon half way, suddenly, one of the Republic guards, taller than the rest, leapt forward, shoving himself in front of the Senator. Putting up his hand, he said flatly, "Senator, I cannot permit this. You may be in grave danger. The Jedi are the only ones left standing. We must assume that the Jedi did this."

Glancing quickly at Qui-Gon and then Master Sle'fey, Amidala straightened up, bristling at the implications. "At the moment, we don't know what happened. But until we do, we need to take care of the living and assess the situation." And as she tried to step around the man, he followed her, a wall of stubborn duty.

"Madam, you are the senior Republic representative here and must be protected at all costs." Obi-Wan could hear the persistence in the man's voice, although he had to admit that Amidala was looking more furious by the moment. "At least wait until backup arrives, Senator."

"My own forces are quite capable to protecting me, Lieutenant, and while I appreciate your diligence, you will let me pass." When he still didn't move, she shoved him aside – in other times, it would have been amusing to watch this slight girl pushing past a huge hulk of a man - and ignoring his protests, started to pick her way toward Qui-Gon.

Short of bodily removing her from the room, there wasn't much the Lieutenant could do. Looking thoroughly unhappy, he trailed behind her, muttering into his comlink, apparently waiting for more guards to appear.

With so many now looking after the few survivors, Amidala must have realized that her help was no longer necessary. As she reached Qui-Gon, she gently pushed aside his tunic and looked at the wound, shaking her head at the mess. "I'm afraid there is nothing to be done until the medivacs arrive with supplies."

"I thought as much." He stood there, white as a shroud, and Obi-Wan thought Qui-Gon might be going into shock. He seemed to shake it off as he gazed down at her but his voice was husky with pain. "Padmé, it was a trap."

"Master Jinn, perhaps you should wait until you have seen the Healers." Sle'fey's voice was as pointed as shattered glass, obviously trying to contain the situation but the Senator wasn't having any of it.

Sending a scorching glare in the Bothan's direction, she began to look more closely at the carnage, growing paler and more appalled with every second. Piles of bodies, some shredded from plasma bolts, limbs sticking up and the smell of blood and cooked meat, the sharp ozone of lightsaber blades. It was almost overwhelming for Obi-Wan and he had been in the heat of it all.

She was coming into it with fresh eyes. Obi-Wan could only imagine what she must have been feeling. The horror bled through her voice. "How many dead? And where is Chancellor Palpatine?"

"Padmé…," Qui-Gon hesitated, obviously trying to soften the blow, but there was nothing to be done. "At least 25 and there may be more before the night is done." And with a tiny grunt as he shifted to one side, he nodded toward the gore-strewn pile. "Palpatine is dead."

Her gaze slid past him, searching among the dregs of corpses for a familiar face. She must have found it because her head snapped back and even from Obi-Wan's vantage point, she looked like she was going to be sick. "Where is the rest of him?"

Before Qui-Gon could say anything else, still hovering near Amidala's shoulder, the Lieutenant pulled out his blaster and pointed it straight at him, the other Republic guards gathering up behind him with weapons drawn. "You three are under arrest for the murder of Chancellor Palpatine."

She whirled on the man, her voice sharp as a blade, "Stand down. You have no proof at present for arrest. Until there has been an investigation sanctioned by the Senate Judiciary, you will refrain from making allegations of that kind."

The guard was sputtering with indignation. "But he's been murdered. His head is…."

She drew back, straightening, sending him a glare that would have destroyed lesser men. "Since you insist that I am the senior representative here, you will stand down until I tell you otherwise. Is that clear?"

"If they escape, it will be on your head, Senator." But he motioned his men to return to the doorway and stood there, stone-steady, blasters drawn, waiting.

Once she realized that the Republic guards would stay put for the time being, Amidala walked over to the half-covered head and pulled back the cloth. This time she didn't recoil from the gore but her frown grew thunderous. As she stood up, she looked first around at the carnage in the room, then settled her gaze on Trest Sle'fey.

"It would seem that a lightsaber was used to kill Chancellor Palpatine. Do you have an explanation for this, Master Jedi?" Her eyes were as hard as durasteel and winter-cold but he didn't back away from her accusations.

"Self-defense, Senator." Master Sle'fey straightened, muzzle up, standing there as if ready to battle anyone who would dare challenge his words, looking every inch the leader of the Jedi Order. "Chancellor Palpatine used some kind of plasma weapon on us. Most here did not stand a chance."

Her eyes widened as she took in the implications. "Are you accusing the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic of murder?"

Qui-Gon flinched at the hostility in her voice. He must have been more injured than Obi-Wan realized. Usually, his old master would be the epitome of stoic calm, even in the face of overwhelming odds. "Yes, we are." He stepped forward, leaning down, his eyes soft with sympathy. "I'm sorry, Padmé. I know he was a friend but he fooled us all."

She jerked away, looking around again at the bodies. "What are you saying?"

"We were about to arrest him and turn him over to the Senate for investigation when he attacked us." His fur whirling madly, Sle'fey growled contempt as he nodded toward the severed head. "Chancellor Palpatine was not the genial, grandfatherly leader we all thought, trying to save the Republic from itself in these troubled times."

To Obi-Wan's eyes, Sle'fey was hesitating too long, staring at her, looking suspiciously like he wasn't sure if he should tell her everything or twist things as he had always done. Obi-Wan's experiences with him, the Jedi Council and their flexibility with truth made him wary. The Bothan was devious to a fault, the consummate trickster but he must have decided on honesty - for a change. "Senator Amidala, he was a Sith Lord."

There were hurried whispers in the background; her face paled with shocked disbelief. "Do you have proof?"

Looking thoroughly sure of himself, Sle'fey bowed toward her. "Oh, yes. More than enough."

From the entrance, there was loud condemnation. "He's making it up. It's not possible for our Chancellor to be one of those Sith creatures." Growls of agreement followed; apparently the Republic guards were not happy about the situation or believed the Jedi for a single moment.

But the mutters died down when Senator Amidala sent them a distinctly haughty stare and then deliberately turned her back on them. "It will have to be put before the Judiciary and there will certainly be an uproar. I would assume for your sake that you are prepared for the worst. They may dissolve the Jedi Order over this."

"That is one potential outcome, yes." Sle'fey sounded smug as if he'd already planned for that eventuality. Even Amidala sent him a questioning glance but he merely ignored her looks. "I am sure that the Senate will find the Jedi and the Order clear of all charges. Now if…."

He never finished the sentence. The first of the medivacs swept into the room and in a moment it was controlled chaos. Amidala quickly stepped forward and began to direct the efforts, making sure that the still-living were quickly hoisted into hoversleds and whisked away to the nearest infirmary, the Jedi to the Temple Halls of Healing and non-Jedi to Manarai Medical Center.

All the while, the Republic guards at the entrance kept their eyes on Sle'fey, Qui-Gon, and sometimes sent a glance toward him, likely trying to make sure none of them escaped. As if he would bother.

Amidst the bustle, Obi-Wan sank back again. No longer even mildly curious as to what was being said or done, too tired to think, he was sure someone would come for him eventually and it would be an effort to care. Instead, he turned away, staring at nothing and then reluctantly down at the shell of his Padawan, now just a cooling corpse. Closed his eyes, trying to block out the pain, the memories, the horror of it all. Tried to ignore the taint of the still darkened Force, all that sorrow spilling over into the oily currents, all that death.

He didn't even hear Qui-Gon hobbling toward him, just felt the slight breeze as he knelt down. "Obi-Wan? We will need to leave soon."

He grunted in return. He knew he should put it aside, let his feelings go into the Force like a good Jedi would and be at peace but perhaps he wasn't that man any more. Qui-Gon didn't say anything else but he could almost hear his reproach. Obi-Wan let out a long, slow breath. "Do you think she knew what she was doing at the end?"

There was a long silence before Qui-Gon murmured, "Yes, she knew." Then he placed his hand on Obi-Wan's uninjured arm, giving it a sympathetic squeeze. "We will honor her sacrifice, Padawan. When we return to the Temple…."

"Don't." He shook off the contact. He didn't want to hear it, didn't want to be offered pity or understanding or any of the other compassionate Jedi platitudes. He'd led her here to her death, killed her as if he's wielded the saber with his own hands and he didn't need Qui-Gon reminding him of duty and _sacrifice_.

"Do you think I'm a good Jedi, Qui-Gon?" He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer; he wasn't sure he should have asked the question.

But Qui-Gon didn't protest, must have realized that Obi-Wan was still exhausted, at the end of his rope and thinking of letting go. "I think you are a good man in need of rest and meditation. These last days have been difficult." He said quietly, "When you've regained your balance, Obi-Wan, I think you will already know the answer."

There was a rustle of long skirts and Senator Amidala stood over them. "Qui-Gon, Master Jedi, we need to clear the room so that the Republic investigators can begin. If you will follow me, I will see that you are sent safely back to the Temple. Under guard unfortunately, but I'm sure you understand that." She seemed to hesitate, perhaps understanding how much Obi-Wan had lost. "The bodies will remain here for the time being but once the Judiciary team has taken the evidence needed to make a determination, all the Jedi dead will be sent back to the Order for cremation."

As Qui-Gon helped him to his feet and they stumbled away to the door, he thought about what would happen next. They would take samples, handle her body as if it were nothing, treat her like the corpse she was.

The Jedi would agree, would remind him that her body was just crude matter, that Atel was already one with the Force and when her remains came back to the Temple, they would burn the shell into ash.

But when he looked back, all he saw was her face, white and still, and wondered where his shy girl had gone.


	73. Chapter 39: Jedi Business

A/N - There is no Aftermath part 2. For Chapter 38, I've changed the title of Aftermath part 1 to Aftermath. Just in case you thought something was missing. There isn't.

* * *

**Chapter 39 – Jedi Business**

Flying back to the Temple was a quiet affair. Kenobi and Jinn sat close together, the Bendu almost solicitous of his former padawan but there were no words exchanged, no hurried whispers. Sle'fey supposed that it was likely due to the hulking guards on either side of them.

He was not particularly happy about that aspect of their ride back, either. His own guard, that damnable pushy Lieutenant who had given Amidala so much trouble, was following him like a Toydarian blood-leech. He didn't think it would be easy to lose him but lose him he must. He needed to coordinate the Jedi Order's responses to whatever the Senate threw at them and a Republic guard following him around would be inconvenient at the very least and potentially damaging to the Order if the Senate got wind of Sle'fey's plans before he could finalize them.

There was quite a delegation when they arrived. Outsiders might think the Jedi stoic or even disinterested in mundane matters but Sle'fey knew better. Under the deceptive calm, they were intensely nosy, had to be in order to protect themselves over the last ten years. The Jedi had always had an innate curiosity but it had reached a fever pitch when there were constant threats of dismissal. One might call it paranoia; others might see it as protection. But in any case, the beings at the Temple knew something was up.

Sle'fey limped off the shuttle with his guard, that massive irritant, trailing behind him. Healer Leabe was right there, already clucking at the mess on his fur, the strips of cooked flesh, the matted blood. He was sure the man would have made him go to the Healer's hall, Councilor or no Councilor, if Leabe hadn't spotted Jinn and Kenobi and hurried over to them, complaining the whole time. At least his departure gave Sle'fey time to edge away.

He was not going to be diverted, not by Healer Leabe, not by anyone.

Sending laser-bolt glares across the room to show his displeasure at such a crowd of onlookers, they were already beginning to disperse when NeTa Phen appeared. Sle'fey shook his head. There could be no discussion of what had happened and what would come next with that guard following him, spying on his every move.

Master Phen must have sensed the problem because she only nodded and fell into step beside him.

As they made their way slowly toward the turbolift, Sle'fey said, "Until circumstances become clearer, Lieutenant Obrim will be attending me as per Senate requirements. Master Jinn and Knight Kenobi are being sent back to the Healer's hall. They have extensive physical damage that may need reconstruction, perhaps bacta therapy as well but they also have guards attending them. Since the security officers will be staying at the Temple for an extended period, perhaps you could find suitable accommodations for our Republic guests."

The hulking annoyance grunted a bit. "Master Jedi, I will not remain here indefinitely. When my shift is up, a new guard will replace me and this will continue until such time as the Senate investigation is complete."

"And how long will that be?" Sle'fey had better things to do than deal with fools but he kept his voice composed.

Obrim had no such compunction. Moving in front of the Jedi, he put up one hand to stop them both, the other tightening on his blaster. "If it were up to me, you'd be under arrest and in a detention cell, not here. However, since Senator Amidala has directed me to make sure you are available for questioning by the Senate when they convene and the Judiciary liaison has insisted that we keep you under close watch until then, I will follow my orders until such time as they are changed."

"We all have our duties, Lieutenant. Don't interfere in Jedi business." Sle'fey just stared, waiting for him to move out of the way.

With a shrug, the guard stepped to one side, gesturing for them to proceed. "Of course. As long as it does not interfere with the investigation."

"Of course." And the Jedi swept past him, pulling him along in their wake.

*********************

The Council chamber echoed unpleasantly, dusty corners now filled with emptiness. There was a hollowness in the room, almost bitter, as if the final dregs of a lost glory were contained there, now stale and useless. It would appear that even nature was mocking them; as Sle'fey entered, a warm shaft of light spilled across the floor, edging the broken tiles in sunset gold.

Something caught in his throat. So much loss, so much darkness, and it wasn't over. The Senate would likely try to destroy the Order, using Palpatine's death as an excuse. But he would be damned if he was going to lead the Jedi into extinction.

Tion Medza, head of Procurement and now one of three remaining Jedi Council members out of the original nine slipped into the chamber, looked at Obrim, and stopped. Sle'fey motioned him in as the door swung shut.

"Republic guards will remain at the Temple until things can be straightened out. Apparently, Lieutenant Obrim here...." He sent a disdainful glance toward the man, and then with a curl of his muzzle, looked away again. "And some in power believe that I might have had something to do with Supreme Chancellor Palpatine's death."

Both of the other Jedi looked shaken but Sle'fey just continued, his voice hard and flat, "It was self-defense. It would seem that the beloved Chancellor of the Republic laid a trap for us. Many are dead, including most of the Jedi who accompanied us to the Senate as well as several Senators and their aides."

He walked over and placed both paws on the back of his old friend's chair, curling his claws into the fabric. Looking down at the scratched duraplast, remembering the arguments and deceptions they'd had to play, he remembered, too, how much they tried to make things better, often without success, but still they tried. He said softly, "Master Xacor is dead."

Medza and Phen looked at each other, both of them clearly upset by the news. But they could not dwell on the past few hours. There would be time enough later to mourn.

"Master Sle'fey, there are matters to discuss." Phen's eyes were full of questions.

Sle'fey shook his head. They would have to be answered later, away from the prying glare of a hostile agent. Instead he straightened, letting go of Xacor's chair and hobbled over to the window. Looking out over the city, he focused his attention on the Senate building in the distance. "At the moment, the Republic is in flux. They will have to replace Palpatine and it may take some time. In addition, there is an ongoing investigation into this incident. While Lieutenant Obrim has made assumptions which are not true, I can't help but believe that others will jump to the same conclusions."

Looking back toward his remaining, his only supporters, he wanted to alert them to the potential for disaster. "There may be a call for blood. We will need to be prepared for such an event." It would not have been the first time the Temple was under siege; the building was made to withstand fire, flood, riots, and rocket attacks. Hopefully, it would not be necessary but they had to be ready for anything.

Of course, Obrim protested the insinuation. Puffing out his chest, he looked thoroughly insulted, looked as if Sle'fey had called his honor into question. "Master Jedi, the Senate will protect the innocent."

"You believe me guilty." Fur whirling in disbelief, he stared back at him. "I have to wonder how well you would try and protect me or the other Jedi in this complex if we were under attack by Republic citizens."

If looks could kill, Sle'fey would be dead a thousand times over. Obrim snarled back, "I would protect you with my life, Jedi."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." He didn't believe the Republic guard for an instant. But he needed to remain calm, needed to keep his focus; he needed the man out of earshot and hopefully unable to discover what he was planning. "Lieutenant, there are some issues that I wish to discuss with the other Councilors. Jedi business." He made it sound as if it was nothing, that Obrim need not worry about such minor things, that he might leave them alone for a time. While he was talking, he pushed into the Force, sending a strong suggestion of cooperation toward the man. "For that, we need privacy. There is an antechamber you can use until we are done. If you would…."

Stubborn and obviously not weak-minded, Obrim just shrugged it off, glaring at the Jedi as he did. "My orders are clear. I and my replacements are to remain with you at all times. If you wish to discuss Jedi matters, you can do so in my presence."

Sle'fey pulled his muzzle back in a snarl. "And will you watch over me while I use the 'fresher, too?"

"The Senate is being very generous in letting you roam free as it is." Obrim shrugged, stubborn and thoroughly sure of himself. "It was that or I could escort you to a detention cell. Your choice."

For a long moment, hostility lay heavy in the air. Sle'fey stared at the man and weighed his options, none of which were entirely free of problems. It might be enough to discuss Jedi issues in general terms without giving anything away. Or perhaps it would be better to wait until Obrim was replaced; the next guard might be less hostile or more receptive to mind manipulation. Unfortunately, he had little time and there was still much to do.

A slight sniff of disdain – he would not give the Republic fool the satisfaction of surrender and he turned toward Tion Medza. "How are our _guests_ doing?"

Master Medza might be a Corellian and reckless at times but he could be as devious as a Bothan when called upon. It was clear that he knew just what not to say about Tharten's associates in front of Obrim; instead he couched his reply with consummate skill, smiling, saying brightly, "All bedded down for the night, Master. Some of them have asked to see you tomorrow, to make amends for not being here to greet you when you returned."

Make amends indeed. It would seem that a detention cell had had a sobering effect on some of the Councilors.

He was sure that Veendo or Nunb would refuse to cooperate. And even if they did, they were a lost cause, far too deeply involved in Tharten's operations for Sle'fey to consider granting them amnesty for their crimes. They deserved nothing less than the maximum penalty for all the death and destruction they'd caused over the years.

But the others, those who had been on the Council a short time, A'Ala-Tanze, or the head of Information Resources, TaKet, might be made to see reason. He couldn't trust them, of course, but they had valuable data that he could use. For that reason alone, he'd be willing to see them. They might even reveal further treachery within the Jedi Order.

Nodding, Sle'fey tried to look as if he was mildly interested but not enough to concern a Republic agent. "Yes, well, I was detained as Lieutenant Obrim can attest. I had hoped to talk with them but it can wait."

"Some of them are quite eager to discuss old times." Medza must have made promises or else threats. But it would do the traitors some good to think about what they'd lost and what they could offer the Jedi Order when he saw them again.

"I'm sure they are." He shrugged, brushed down his fur in a way that told Medza that he'd heard and understood. And then sending a veiled glance back at Obrim, he shuffled a little away, brushing paws against the faded paint and the cracked tiles rimming the windows, pretending to be lost in thought. NeTa Phen and Medza moved with him, standing slightly back but blocking the guard's direct view of him. Sle'fey's voice softened to just above a whisper. He wasn't about to make it easy for the fool to overhear their conversation. "It is imperative that we think about replacements for the Councilors we've lost. Send me a list of nominees. I want beings who will be supportive but also willing to question. There will be no more…." he stopped, looking at them both, trying to emphasize his concern, saying carefully, "errors."

"Did you discuss the Council position with Kenobi?" He had talked with Phen and Xacor about it just before leaving for Palpatine's office and they'd thought that it had been a good idea at the time.

Now he wasn't so sure. When they returned to the Temple, Obi-Wan Kenobi appeared as if he were teetering on the edge of reason. He'd seen war victims with the same empty look and although Kenobi could be an asset, he wondered if he would be strong enough for the days ahead. "Yes, he declined. However, he may change his mind. Assume he will accept and if he still refuses, we will deal with the issue then."

Obrim was edging closer, obviously trying to listen in to their conversation. Sle'fey leaned forward, out of his line of sight. "I want the nominations on my desk first thing in the morning. I already have Master Xacor's list of potential candidates. We'll reconvene by mid-afternoon and make final determinations then."

"The Senate may protest it." Phen's objection had merit. For the past several years, the Senate had had final say as to who was seated on the Council. But that was about to change.

"Indeed they may." Shrugging, already dismissing any problem with the Senate, Sle'fey turned to Master Medza. "Tion, I need you to compile Master Xacor's files on his last investigation." He curled inward, stumbling forward, pretending to affected by his wounds. As Medza caught him, Sle'fey shoved a data crystal into his hands. He didn't want Obrim hearing what he had to tell them so his voice was soft, hurried. "Here are the passcodes. I will need a complete rundown of his findings. Focus on the financial records of Tharten and our current _guests_. I want to know what to expect, no hidden surprises. I've had enough of those for one day."

Sle'fey pulled back, trying to give the impression that he was weakened by his injuries but still struggling to do his duty. "Thank you, Tion, but I'm quite all right," he said clearly.

"You should be in the Healer's hall, Master." Hands hovering over him, NeTa Phen looked as if she was checking to make sure he wasn't going to collapse at any second.

Medza took advantage of the scene, whispering, "A tall order. I'm not sure I can do this so quickly."

"Just do the best you can." Sle'fey shrugged them both off. There was one more thing to discuss and it didn't matter if the Republic guard heard it or not. It would be part of the investigation and he was certain that Obrim would know about it eventually. "As we suspected, Palpatine was the Sith Lord."

NeTa made a little sound of protest; Tion paled, his eyes black with worry. They had all known it on an intellectual level but to be stated as absolute truth must have been daunting to them both. In a way, Sle'fey still could not believe it.

But it didn't matter. Palpatine, Sidious, the Dark Lord of the Sith, was dead and now they had to deal with the rest of it.

"There is still another Sith out there somewhere. Always two, a Master and an apprentice. We will need to gather a team together and try and sift through the data we do have and come up with a plan. If we are lucky, the Senate investigation may also find leads to his whereabouts." Sle'fey straightened up, his claws scratching against the cracked tiles as he pushed away from the window."We can't let the Sith rise again. It would be disastrous for the galaxy."

The Republic fool was right there, protesting his ignorance. "You can't be serious. A Sith? That is a legend, nothing more."

"Lieutenant Obrim, since Supreme Chancellor Palpatine admitted that he was Darth Sidious in front of witnesses and then killed several people with a red lightsaber, I think it's gone beyond legend, don't you?" Sle'fey tried and failed to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

"Do you have proof?" The man was livid, flushed with disbelief.

"The lightsaber is still there. If the Force is with us, the recording devices in his office will confirm all that I have said. And prove that the Jedi were innocent of murder." Sle'fey turned away from him, deliberately snubbing the guard. He'd had enough of fools. "Any other questions?"

NeTa Phen's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. She must have been just as annoyed with the blustering Obrim as he was. "Are you going to get those wounds taken care of?"

He nodded at the sharp concern. It had been a long day and he had to admit that he was in pain and beyond that hovered the grief he'd forced aside for duty. He sent them both a tired smile. "I will be checking on Master Jinn and Knight Kenobi next. I'm sure Healer Leabe won't let me escape unscathed."

*********************

The second Sle'fey entered the Healer's hall, Leabe was there, glaring at him. "I can't treat you if you hide from me."

He tried not to huff back about duty and putting the Jedi Order above his own pain. It was useless to protest and they both knew it. "I'm here now so get on with it." When Leabe glanced at his Republic shadow with questions in his eyes, Sle'fey shook his head. "Lieutenant Obrim has been appointed by the Judiciary to make sure I don't leave Coruscant. It would seem that he thinks I killed Palpatine on a whim."

It really should have been beneath him to bait the damn fool but he must have been in more pain than he realized.

Of course, Obrim protested. "I am here to see that Master Sle'fey will be available to answer questions about the murder of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine. I am to remain with him at all times."

The look Leabe sent back was scathing. It was obvious he'd had enough of bureaucratic nonsense. "I already have two Republic guards cluttering up my wards and getting in the way of my staff. Is it really necessary to have a third?"

"I have my orders, Healer." Obrim just stood there, chest puffed out, arms crossed, glowering at them all. He looked as immovable as a planet. There would be no compromise but Sle'fey already knew that.

"Very well." Apparently, Healer Leabe wasn't going to fight the guard either – surprisingly since he would often fight Sle'fey on just about everything. It could be that he disagreed with him on every issue they'd ever discussed or perhaps Leabe saw it as a form of recreation but it didn't matter. Shrugging, the Healer ignored Obrim and pointed toward one of the examination rooms. "Master, if you will come this way, I'll try and make this as quick as I can."

As they walked down the corridor and into the room, there was only silence. He knew that Leabe was no fool and he'd already had to deal with the other two guards so he wouldn't give anything away in front of Republic spies. It wasn't until Leabe started to clean and dress the burns that Sle'fey asked, "How are former Master Jinn and Knight Kenobi?"

A quick glance toward the surly Obrim and Leabe leaned in, smoothed bacta over one of the longer wounds with a gentle touch. "Jinn is doing well enough. He tore some of the scar tissue he'd gotten from his fight with…."

There was hesitation and no names. Leabe could keep secrets as Sle'fey well knew. "But nothing to be concerned about. He sustained plasma burns on his chest and shoulder. I've packed it with bacta but it will take a few days before he's fit again. Otherwise, he's in good health."

A thick glob of bacta cooled his skin and he tried not to sigh in relief. Leabe was not so reserved. He smiled down at Sle'fey, knowing the medication was beginning to work, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. His voice softened into whispers. "Kenobi is more problematic. His wounds opened up during the fight and I've had to reknit some of the bone/muscle connections. Plus he also had plasma burns and an odd kind of electrical shock to his body. He will need to remain in bed for at least a day, possibly more while we flush out the calcium buildup in his tissues."

Obrim must have gotten restless or worried they were planning something; he moved closer, well within earshot. Leabe gave Sle'fey's arm one final pat and stepped back. "Kenobi and Jinn are both in the same room they'd had this morning."

"I want to see them." He needed to make sure that the Republic spies had not bullied the pair of them into giving away anything. He didn't think Jinn would be so foolish but Kenobi's mental condition was still of concern. He'd felt the darkness when the knight had attacked Sidious; if that was still a problem, he needed to know.

He began to shrug back into his tunics but Leabe stopped him, looking down with a critical eye at the way he was moving. "I'll be done in another moment. Do you have any other injuries?"

"No, I was luckier than most. Master…." He stopped for a moment, suddenly powerless to speak the name, his throat clogged with unshed grief. He still remembered how Zak looked just before he died, astonishment and defeat in his eyes and then agony twisting his face. The loss was just now beginning to hit him and it hurt far more than he'd ever imagined. Bowing his head, Sle'fey managed to breathe out, "Master Xacor took the brunt of it."

"When will the bodies be returned for cremation?" Leabe must have understood because he was gentler than he had ever been before with Sle'fey.

However, now was not the time for grief. He shook himself free of it and said steadily, flatly, "When the investigation is complete. It may be a while."

The Healer nodded. "Well, I'm finished here. Shall we go see my other two wayward patients?"

*********************

Qui-Gon Jinn was sitting cross-legged on the bed, eyes closed, relaxed, hair framing his face. Meditating away the pain and loss of the day.

Sle'fey could almost admire the man's ability to let go of everything but the essentials. It had become increasingly difficult to do in the wake of the Order's takeover by Tharten and her horde of darkside sycophants and even he had struggled to deal with the darker emotions. Hopefully, that would change in the months and years ahead.

Kenobi, on the other hand, was obviously still struggling with anger. As Sle'fey entered, a blaster bolt glare was sent his way but the man lowered his eyes when Qui-Gon looked up, said softly, "Obi-Wan."

The irritating Obrim was not trailing him anymore. He was slumming with his friends by the doorway, their bodies huddled together, jabbering about something or other. A steady glare as the man watched him, clearly making sure he hadn't tried to escape but at least he wasn't hovering over his shoulder every moment. It was a relief.

Bowing to Jinn, Sle'fey nodded back to Healer Leabe who was now busy with his comlink and paying no attention to them. Seeing that he would get no help from the healer, he said, "I am told that you are well enough considering the circumstances. As I'm sure you realize, there will be an investigation of the incident in Supreme Chancellor Palpatine's office and it is likely that we will all be summoned to answer questions. I don't…."

"We know what to expect, Councilor. Get to the point." The hostility in Kenobi's voice brought another quiet rebuke from Jinn but that didn't stop him. "I'm sorry, Qui-Gon but you have no idea what he is like. I won't be party to this. Hasn't he destroyed enough Jedi in his cause?"

"Knight Kenobi, please. I grieve for your loss but Sidious would have wiped out the Bendu and the Jedi without a single thought." Another sharp glare but at least the man kept silent. "Padawan Atel Sl'etah will be honored for her sacrifice. Hers was a commitment to the light that will be an example for generations to come."

"Fine words, Sle'fey, but I don't believe them. Or you." With that, Kenobi turned away, fiddling anxiously with the bandages on his shoulder, and ignoring them all.

Qui-Gon frowned, his face hard with disapproval but he must have realized now was not the time for reprimands. Instead, he said, "Master Sle'fey, I would like to contact my family on Naboo as soon as possible and let them know that I am well. My wife and son will be quite worried."

"I think that can be arranged." He turned toward Leabe, about to tell him to get a long-distance HoloNet connection set up when the healer gave a final sharp reply and switched off his comlink.

It was odd but Leabe looked almost pale, as if he'd gotten bad news. But he must have read Sle'fey's mind. The healer spun around, went over to the wall where a HoloNet plate was stored and then pulled it down, getting it ready for transmission.

"Master Jinn, Senator Amidala wants to talk with you." He sounded upset but as he pressed the button and the Senator's petite form began to appear, he said, "I'm sorry."

They were all staring at Leabe for a moment, startled by his abrupt change in demeanor, and even the Republic guards stopped talking when Amidala said, "Qui-Gon, I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings but I've been in contact with Naboo." She hesitated, clearly unhappy but then she straightened, her eyes steady on Qui-Gon's face. "Ben is fine if a bit shaken up. He's staying at the Sanctuary with Shmi but Le'orath is in the Healer's care. She was pretty badly hurt."

Qui-Gon's face paled. Wincing from the pull of bandages and the obvious wounds he still suffered, he leaned forward, bracing for bad news.

And it was bad.

"A Force user, likely a Sith Lord or an apprentice, tried to kill them both. Ben was able to escape but Le'orath... Qui-Gon, she will live but the baby died. There was too much damage. I'm sorry." The Senator shifted awkwardly, blinking back tears, sorrow in her voice. "Luckily Anakin arrived in time or the outcome would have been much worse. Their attacker is dead but Qui-Gon, Mace didn't…" More misery, more grief, more regret. "Mace Windu is dead. The Sith killed him."

Qui-Gon buried his face in his hands. Sle'fey had never lost a child but he knew it could be devastating. And Mace Windu had been known for his superb swordsmanship and devious fighting style and unswerving loyalty to his friends; from Kenobi's early reports, Windu and Jinn had been close, almost brothers.

So much loss in a single day.

Yet there was treasure among all that destruction. "Senator, are you certain it was a Sith?"

She seemed almost relieved to be talking of other, less personal things. "I've discussed this with Master Windu's second-in-command, Pavel Janson, and Anakin Skywalker, Master Jinn's apprentice. Both insist that it was a Sith. The killer wielded a red lightsaber and Anakin said that he had used the darkside against them."

If Amidala was correct, this could mean the end of the Sith. The Dark Lord was now a headless corpse and perhaps the Bendu had killed the apprentice as well. Always two there are, no more, no less and if both were dead....

"Skywalker said the darkside? You are sure of it?" Sle'fey's bark was sharp with satisfaction.

"Yes, Master Jedi. I'm certain that he would testify to that effect if necessary. Plus they've put the body into stasis. His ship is also in custody and is currently be studied by the Bendu. I can arrange for you to talk with them if necessary. I'm sure they would want to cooperate." She seemed confident, a Senator believing in her people and knowing they would not fail her.

He tried not to seem too pleased but this was perfect, if true. "When the Judiciary investigation of Jedi actions with regard to Palpatine's death is complete, I would like that, thank you."

"Qui-Gon?" Amidala had turned back into the concerned friend. She seemed softer, more gentle and someone you could rely on at a time of loss.

His eyes were reddened with grief but Qui-Gon was gracious as always. "Thank you, Padmé, for letting me know. If you could, I would like to go home as soon as possible."

"Unfortunately, until you have been cleared, there is nothing I can do." She reached out, almost forgetting that she was not there to comfort, but then realized her mistake and nodded instead. "I will keep in touch and let you know if anything changes at home. It should only be a few days and then I'll arrange for transport." Amidala sent him a gentle smile. "She has the best care available, Qui-Gon, and they got to her in time. I'm sure she'll understand about why you aren't there."

"Le'orath is... a stubborn woman. She may never forgive me for this." Qui-Gon shook his head and looked away, out into the night. "And I wouldn't blame her."

"You couldn't know that," she reminded him.

"I warned her before we married that being around me might be dangerous. I don't think she really believed it." He seemed resigned, almost broken by the news.

Amidala gave him one last hopeful nod. "I'll do my best to speed your release, Qui-Gon."

"Thank you, Padmé." And the image wavered and disappeared.

For a moment, no one said anything. Qui-Gon was looking off into the distance, his shoulders slumped and he seemed to be bearing the weight of the galaxy, lost in his own misery. Healer Leabe stood next to him, hand on the uninjured shoulder, murmuring likely words of Jedi compassion. Kenobi kept staring at his old master, his hands clenching and unclenching as if he wanted to hobble over and comfort the man but was unsure of his reception. The guards were standing by the door, frowning at the tableau, and then relaxing back into duty, unconcerned.

Apparently, only Sle'fey understood the real resolution of the battle on Naboo. This was of immense importance to the Jedi Order. The Sith may have been eradicated now and forever. "At least we know that the Sith apprentice is likely dead. One less thing to concern ourselves with."

"You have the heart of a sand viper, Sle'fey," Kenobi snarled, his eyes black with fury.

He refused to accept the rebuke. "We have our own losses. And there may be more. I am sorry about Master Windu but I need to see beyond the immediate difficulties."

"So much for compassion." Kenobi's voice was space-cold, frosting the air with his contempt. "And do you grieve for Master Xacor? Your friend? Or do you just pay lip service to impress the rabble?"

"There is no death. There is the Force."

A stock reply and one that he should believe; it was at the heart of the Jedi Code. But Zak's final moments seared across his memory, the profanity of plasma beams burning into his skin, mouth impossibly wide, agony in blood and tears and torn flesh as Sidious destroyed him. Sle'fey hadn't been able to do a thing while the friend he'd known since the crèche protected him from the blast at the cost of his own life. The grief was shaking him and he couldn't let that happen.

"Well done. A non-answer yet again." Kenobi's sarcasm was pointed as an obsidian blade.

But the anger in the knight's eyes was enough to harden Sle'fey's slipping control and make his answer durasteel harsh. "We are trained to let go and you would do well to remember that. I will grieve in my own time and then I will carry on his work as he would want me to do, to honor him."

Obi-Wan jerked back, blinking astonishment, sounding almost curious. "The first answer you've given me that doesn't smack of back-stabbing political posturing." Then frowning, he said sharply, "I wonder which one is real."

Master Trest Sle'fey, Councilor, now head of the Jedi Order, holding everything together by sheer will and Bothan cunning, the one who must not lose his way no matter what the consequences, could only whisper back, "So do I."


	74. Chapter 40: Politicians part 1

**Chapter 40 – Politicians **

**Part 1  
**

Lieutenant Obrim was true to his word. Sle'fey couldn't find any place to be alone, anywhere that the hulking fool wouldn't go, even the 'fresher.

He would have taken great pleasure in baiting the man, but it really was beneath him to even consider such things and so he let the intrusions into his personal space pass. Obrim would be gone soon enough and Sle'fey had better things to do with his time than try to embarrass a Republic guard, even one this annoying.

So finally he'd ignored the man, stumbled into bed; in the darkness, grief and the faint memory of nightmares, smoke and terror and lines of fire cutting through the black, had plagued him enough that he woke more weary than before and to the gleam of eyes staring at him.

Now he was just waiting for Masters Phen and Medza to arrive at his office, to discuss Council memberships. They'd both sent their suggestions hours ago but there hadn't been any surprises in the lists. They all knew who they could trust and who they could not.

There were six seats vacant, five if Kenobi was included and he planned on leaving one or two open, just in case some of the Bendu would be willing to return. He didn't expect Jinn to leave that organization, especially with Windu dead, but there were other possibilities. He would remain flexible and see where the Force and their future took them.

Whether or not there would be a Jedi Order once the Senate was done with them remained the larger question. But even that had possibilities.

Obrim was still glaring at him but he ignored it, turning to the more important problem, keeping the Order from falling apart. He had Zak's files on Sera Tharten's dealings with the Banking Clan, her financial accounts and those of her followers. The monies she'd managed to siphon into her own accounts from the Jedi had been staggering but he was sure there were other more hidden treasures still to be discovered.

Tharten hadn't been the only one who had been stealing from the Order. Over the years, pieces of Jedi history had gone missing: holocrons and statuary and old, precious books, jewels and artifacts of lost races, a thousand different kinds of plunder. They began turning up on the illegal antiquities trade some time ago but Medza and Xacor had only stumbled over the thefts in the last year or so and the trail had led back eventually to Veendo and his protégées.

Councilor Nunb had been busy as well. Equipment had gone missing or the Order paid for things that never arrived and his accounts had grown fat. And he knew TaKet, head of Information Resources, had been blackmailing some of the Senators and accepting bribes from some of the more powerful corporations whenever the Jedi had arrived to mediate wrong-doing. He was ashamed to say that the Order had found for those with rich holdings and political power more often than not because of it.

The Jedi Order was rife with illegal activity and it had not been good – until now. Sle'fey tried not to smile. Tharten and her followers had amassed a fortune and with their financial accounts at his fingertips, there was money enough to tell the Senate to go to hell if need be. A position of strength and he would be a fool if he didn't use it.

Things were finally beginning to look up.

* * *

"I've talked with Master Jinn. He was able to contact the Bendu group last night and speak with his son briefly." Master Phen rubbed her eyes, hands shaking a bit. Yesterday had taken a toll of them all. Two more of the Jedi had died in the night and there was a possibility of a third passing before long. "Apparently, the boy is well enough although wanting his father, of course, but his wife is still unconscious. She was badly burned in the fire and the Sith had…." Pausing a moment, glancing from one to the other, Phen's face tightened into fury. "The Sith had etched symbols into her skin while he tortured her. According to the healers on site, the bacta will help her enough that she won't be permanently handicapped - the saber narrowly missed her spine when he gutted her and killed her unborn child, but there will likely be extensive scarring."

The Sith had been a scourge on the galaxy since they'd first risen up, spreading hatred among the stars, using murder and despair and twisted agonies too obscene to contemplate. It was one thing to accept that the Jedi would likely die while doing their duty but to attack innocents and torture them for pleasure was utterly profane.

"How is Master Jinn handling it?" Sle'fey's voice was rough with determination; the Sith would not rise again, not while he had anything to say about it.

Phen nodded, seemed to understand how much this had affected them all. "Well enough, considering what had happened. But he wants to go home."

"I'd send him back to Naboo now if the Senate would lift the restrictions. However, I don't see that occurring until there has been a final determination on this situation." After all they had done to him, Sle'fey felt that Jinn deserved to go home and recuperate among his own people.

"And Kenobi?" Sle'fey had to admit that he was not sure what the knight would do, now that his part in taking down Sera Tharten and the Sith was complete. He had so much potential but potential wasn't enough, never enough for leading the Jedi into a new era of peace. He had to have the drive to do what was necessary, no matter what the cost; he wasn't sure Kenobi would ever understand that.

"We had to bacta pack his shoulder and he's in a lot of pain. But we will have to see what other problems might arise." Master Phen frowned, looking more than a little worried. "He hasn't said anything since you left. It concerns me."

Eyes flicking toward Lieutenant Obrim and back again, shaking his head as if to remind them of where they were and who was watching them, Sle'fey said, "There will be time enough for that when the discussions with the Senate are complete."

"He will be asked to testify before the Senate. It might be wise to talk with him before then." Sometimes, NeTa Phen worried too much but unlike others who might spiral into fearful disarray, it made her careful, made her think beyond the next step and the next. It was one of the qualities that would make her an excellent collaborator in the rebirth of the Jedi Order.

"I'll see what I can do." Sle'fey nodded toward her. Kenobi was another problem to be addressed and he would have to handle it soon but at the moment, there were more important issues at stake.

With one paw, his claws clicking on the duraplast, he slid his datapad across the desk toward Medza and Phen, out of the line of sight of their loud-mouthed, overly ambitious, persistent Republic watchdog. "I've looked over your suggestions and along with Master Xacor's recommendations, I've put together a final list." The green light of the 'pad playing across their faces, as they read what he'd placed there, satisfaction and a kind of acceptance shone in their eyes. "As you can see, I think we are in agreement. These vacancies will need to be filled as quickly as possible. The other seats may warrant further discussion."

"This action may be questioned by the committee." NeTa didn't need to say which one. The Senate's Oversight Committee on Jedi Affairs with that buffoon, Zaros, leading the pack had been a thorn in his paw, had been a force bent on destroying the Order for years. And they all knew that when the new Chancellor was finally elected and Zaros replaced, the beings in charge of that committee would try to make their own mark in the political arena by swiftly trying to control those under their jurisdiction. There might even be more dismissals.

Sle'fey nodded. Phen was correct. The Senate bureaucrats would likely protest but it did not matter. Many things were about to change.

"Yes, I'm sure they will question it." He sent another glance toward the guard, another reminder that they had a Senate spy in their midst, that they should pick their words carefully and use only the vaguest of terms. There needed to be clarity at some point but that was not now. "Master Medza, do you have the final analysis for that matter we discussed earlier?"

An answering flash in the other man's eyes and he nodded slowly. "There are still some… items that have not been fully explored as yet. The data stream has been difficult to decode and some portions of it are proving more challenging to open than I had thought. But I am confident that what I've found so far will be adequate for what we had discussed earlier. Any additional finds will only strengthen our position."

It was better than he had hoped. "Excellent. I would like a full picture of the situation in the coming days but based on our future needs, this should prove sufficient."

"Are you sure, Master?" Glancing toward Obrim, then back at Sle'fey, Phen frowned her worry. "It seems barely enough, no matter what Tion says."

"NeTa, it will be enough. I am certain of it." He looked from one to the other, trying to express with words the feelings of rightness, to give them a sense that the Force was pushing them into a future that might be fraught with peril but also might be a new golden age for the Jedi. He had seen the hope of it in his visions, in fractured color and impossible sound, a promise of a new tomorrow. For far too long they had been shrouded in darkness and now he knew it was time to press forward, into the Light.

"My master once told me...." Sle'fey leaned forward, huddling close to them, his whisper the slightest thread moving the air. "_When you have lost your way, return to the beginning and start again_." He sent them a quick, toothy grin. "Appropriate, don't you think? We have lost our way. It is time to begin again."

* * *

He had planned on talking with Kenobi, perhaps seeing if the man had regained his center and was more amenable to thoughts about remaining with the Jedi. But it was not to be.

On their way to the Healer's hall, Lieutenant Obrim's comlink chimed, an urgent signal that had the man scrambling to answer. The guard listened for a moment, kept staring at Sle'fey the entire time, beady eyes narrowed to slits and mouth flat as he nodded to whatever was being said. When Obrim's face morphed into smug satisfaction, he knew something was amiss.

The Force was churning, not with black disorder and darkside energies, but still opaque, still hard to see with any clarity. There was risk ahead, a challenge and yet sometimes his Bothan heritage called for impossible challenges, something to heat his blood, hunting for a thousand different ways to overcome obstacles, a need to push himself past the possibility of failure into exhilarating victory. Predatory excitement widened his muzzle and his breath quickened, a heady anticipation of battles yet unfought.

"Master Jedi, you are directed to the Senate for questioning." Obrim's voice was curt, unyielding. "Now."

Sle'fey knew he shouldn't enjoy it so much but the man was just too easy to bait. Stopping in the hallway and turning to face Obrim, with all politeness and slick-polish, he said calmly, "May I ask for what reason?"

The guard's eyes flashed; he must have known that Sle'fey held him in contempt. Apparently, it was mutual. "The murder...." He frowned as Sle'fey cleared his throat in mild protest, a slight reminder that Obrim would still need a job if this debacle were to go in the Jedi's favor and that it was unwise to burn bridges just because of dislike. "The _death_ of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine. You are a key witness in the investigation."

"Of course, Lieutenant. Just let me gather...." He turned back the way they had come, knowing that he'd need proof of Palpatine's hidden identity and his many crimes if the Senate proved blind to the truth.

"They want you there now, Master Sle'fey. You can have your subordinates gather what you need." Obrim was blocking his way, a huge annoying wall of Republic guard.

Suppressing his irritation, he nodded toward one of the knights passing in the hallway, "Tell Master Phen to bring the data crystals on the Sidious case to me at the Senate building. I may need to remind the Senate Judiciary Committee about the files I sent them."

His hand hovering over his blaster, Obrim looked impatient, looked like he was not willing to give away any advantage to someone he thought was a murderer or a traitor. Sle'fey almost had sympathy for him - almost. It was clear Obrim thought he was doing the right thing by trying to hound a Jedi Councilor into submission but the man was completely out of his depth. As if he could force a Jedi to do anything without his consent.

Perhaps it was time to remind the Senate of that fact. Perhaps it was time to remind the Jedi of that as well.

Twisting around and heading for the turbolift, he said, "Are you coming, Lieutenant? We wouldn't want to keep the committee waiting."

The thunderous scowl Obrim sent Sle'fey was quite satisfying and then he forgot about the fool. He had more important things to consider – like the future of the Jedi Order.

* * *

It wasn't the full Senate that he had to face but the Senators lining the Interrogation Hall were formable enough: Bog Divinian who was known for his unwavering hatred of the Jedi and who, along with Senator Tarkin and his influential family, had tried to ban further funding of the Jedi Order on numerous occasions, Fang Zar whose strong opinions were offset by his willingness to listen, Mas Amedda, the Chagrian Senator and for several years Vice Chairman of the Galactic Senate and one of Palpatine's most devoted followers, Sly Moore who had been Palpatine's Senior Administrative Aide, and the unknown factor of Mon Mothma of Chandrila. Then there were steady supporters of the Order: Bail Organa of Alderaan and next to him, Amidala of Naboo. There was a scatter of others in the room, most of whom held the Jedi in contempt. Guards, too, were clustered here and there, looking as if they were a random collection of indifference and bored duty but he knew better.

Nothing had been left to chance.

With an annoying kind of smugness, Obrim led him to the center dais. The spot where Sle'fey had to stand was a glare of light and it was an obvious attempt to throw him off balance. Blinking several times just to clear his vision of the brilliance, finally he gave a short, sharp bow.

"Honored members of the Republic, I am here at your request. How may I help you?"

There was a quick mutter of angry voices, an undercurrent of fury and power struggles in the room that set his fur lifting in reply. It was clear that they had been discussing the situation before he arrived. Even now, the glares between the Senators and some sympathetic looks sent his way colored a picture of a deep divide among them.

A good sign. At least, there would be beings on the committee willing to see justice done and not just rabble out for blood.

"Master Sle'fey, you are here to answer charges of murdering the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, a man whom all had revered as one of the greatest leaders of all time, and then manufacturing evidence to cover your crimes."

It made sense that Amedda would take charge of the investigation but still Sle'fey was concerned. It would be incredibly easy to suppress vital information, to make it look like the Jedi had conspired to murder Palpatine. But he refused to let the Chagrian sow suspicion so early in the investigation.

Straightening up, his muzzle lifting, catching each Senator's attention as he looked around the room, Sle'fey waited a long moment and then said simply, "As I'm sure you are all aware, I, along with several others, went to Palpatine's office in order to arrest him for crimes against the Republic. He resisted and began to kill innocent bystanders."

He slid into the perfect façade of righteous indignation. "Do you think we should not have stopped him? Let him slaughter the defenseless while we stood by and watched?" Then his eyes hardened as he glared at Amedda. "Is that what you think of us, Vice Chairman?"

Voices raised in protest and already it was chaotic.

"You expect us to believe such a ridiculous story?" Finally, one man's shouts rose above the rest. Divinian sat there, finger pointed straight at Sle'fey. "You and your ilk have long been trying to take over the Republic and this was the perfect opportunity. Kill the Chancellor, put forth a preposterous story of his crimes, lie about how he murdered innocents of all things, and in the ensuing chaos, sow the seeds of rebellion against the Senate."

Sle'fey leaned forward, a hint of contempt curling at his muzzle. "Senator Divinian, your _passion_ for justice does you credit but the evidence will show that I and my fellow Jedi are innocent of the charge."

"Master Jedi, what evidence do you have in your defense?" Mon Mothma's quiet words cut through the clamor.

"Senator, we first became aware of Palpatine's involvement only a few days ago. We had been hunting for some time for a being who had infiltrated the Senate and was using his position there in a number of illegal activities: slave trading, deals in spice with the Hutts, diversion of weapons systems to the Separatists, blackmail and murder and other lesser crimes too numerous to mention."

Amedda was already sputtering. "You can't seriously expect us to believe that the Supreme Chancellor was involved in this. It's absurd."

"I would have agreed with you, Vice Chairman, had I not seen the evidence. We had expected someone of lower rank but the files were very clear."

"And where is this evidence?" Fang Zar was staring at him, his face blank and stony but there seemed to be desire to find out the truth in his eyes.

Sle'fey's worry eased a bit. He knew the man to be honorable and at least he was listening. "Senator Zar, data crystals were sent to the Judiciary before we went to arrest the Chancellor and I have arranged for copies to be brought to this hearing so that this committee might see for themselves."

He bowed slightly toward the group, trying to look properly humble much as it stuck in his throat. If he could get a few members of this group on his side, it would make it much easier to win this battle. "We acted in accordance with our mandate, Senators. We would have liked the Judiciary to have sent officers to accompany us but the situation was too dire to wait and we were unsure of how deeply his corruption had extended into the Senate security forces."

"You can't seriously expect us to believe this filth." Divinian glared poison at him.

Sle'fey ignored the interruption. "We thought Palpatine might flee or else arrange for the murders of those who knew of his dealings. We didn't have time for the Senate to approve. We all know that it might have taken weeks, even months and by then Palpatine would have covered up his operations or arranged for someone else to take the blame."

"How dare you imply that Supreme Chancellor Palpatine would ever do such a thing. This is an outrage." Amedda's blue skin was turning a slight purple, a sure sign of anger.

A clamor of raised voices and flailing appendages filled the hall as the committee began to shout at each other. It was only when Senator Mothma spoke that it began to die down.

"Senators, please, let him continue. If he is lying, we will soon get to the bottom of it."

There seemed to be another swell of fury coming from Divinian's direction but at least Mothma and to a lesser extent, Senator Organa whispering hurriedly into her ear, were trying to calm people down enough to be heard.

From behind him, he could hear the doors opening and closing and there was a rustle of cloth. He turned to see Healer Leabe scowling at the guards flanking Knight Kenobi and Qui-Gon Jinn, and then he muttered something to Jinn but it was too low to hear. It would appear that the committee was deadly serious about finding out what happened. It was also clear that they were not above interrogating beings who were under a healer's care and who, by all rights, should be resting in bed.

At least they let the pair sit down. Leabe hovered over them for a moment, his usual fussy self, and then as he wound his way toward Sle'fey, the Healer said, "Senators, I must protest this action. Both Knight Kenobi and Master Jinn need rest."

Amedda sniffed loudly at the interruption. "And who are you?"

The man shot the Vice Chairman a glare so heated that Sle'fey was surprised Amedda didn't vaporize. Then Leabe deliberately turned away, eyes sweeping across the rest of the committee, contempt in the way he dismissed them so casually. The bow he gave was just short of insolent. "Healer Leabe of the Jedi Order and these men are under my care. Your insistence that they testify is compromising their recovery."

At the Temple, Leabe was known for his iron-will when it came to making sure his patients received the best care available, even if it meant taking funds away from other priorities, but he was more than competent. He was also irascible and outspoken and thoroughly accomplished at rousing tempers.

But he also had to admit that he was glad Leabe was there. It would give the committee a focus for their dislike and allow Sle'fey to act as the conciliatory peace-maker. So ironic an idea that he had to keep from smiling at the absurdity.

"They seem capable of testifying, Healer. Perhaps you should be less worried about them and more about the fact that the Jedi Order may not exist when this investigation is complete." Divinian's sharp features were pulled tight, the sneer on his face self-satisfied and smug, as if he were already thinking about how to sell off the Temple assets and taking the credits for himself – while turning Leabe out on the street.

"The future is always in motion, Senator." An apt retort and one often repeated at the Temple but the Healer made it sound as if Divinian was a fool for not understanding the simple concept.

"Why you little insect…." If Sle'fey didn't know better, he was sure that Divinian was about to launch himself over the table and straight at Leabe.

"Senator Divinian, Healer Leabe, this is pointless." Mon Mothma's soft voice belied a show of steely will. "Healer, please attend to your patients and let us get on with the testimony. Unless you have something relevant to say?"

"Your pardon, Senator." Leabe's bow toward her was deep and considerably less insolent than before. "I do indeed have something for the committee. As I'm sure you know, Senators, Master Sle'fey requested that the data crystals containing the files of the crimes he uncovered be brought to this hearing." Several stones lay glittering in his hand and he lifted his palm higher so that they caught the light. "I have them here."

Mas Amedda nodded toward one of the guards. "Have the data downloaded so that we may distribute the information." When Sle'fey made a small protesting noise, leaning forward with one paw raised as if to snatch the crystals from Leabe's hand, Amedda said smoothly, "Do you have some objection, Master Jedi?"

The oily smile that accompanied the question made Sle'fey sniff softly in amusement; Amedda was certainly trying to push him into doing something rash but there was more at stake than posturing for an audience. Taking a moment, he smoothed the fur across his throat, stoking casually as if he were unconcerned about such things as objections or data crystals.

"No, Vice Chairman. We have additional copies." Smiling, calm, he bowed his head toward the scowling Chagrian, the barest hint of indifference in Sle'fey's voice. "Just in case the data is lost."

Before Amedda could object, the Naboo Senator spoke up, "I would be glad to take charge of the crystals and oversee the final distribution of the files, Vice Chairman. We certainly want to get to the bottom of this and if it will speed the investigation, my staff is at your disposal."

Amedda turned a further shade of purple but he was all politeness. "Senator Amidala, while I appreciate the offer, you will be called as witness in this... this inquiry. It would be inappropriate at this time for your staff to be handling important information like this."

She seemed to weigh his words carefully. "In that case, I recommend Senator Zar take charge of them. He has no personal stake in this investigation and could be considered an impartial arbiter."

Sle'fey tried not to laugh at how neatly Amidala had cornered the Chairman, had seemingly been so reasonable in her comments while still insulting his honor. He'd not want to cross her; she would be a formidable opponent.

It looked like the Vice Chairman was ready to explode, his face dark with anger but he pulled himself together with a visible effort and nodded. "Of course, Senator. Fang Zar and his staff are perfectly acceptable in this matter."

Leabe sent Sle'fey a sharp glance, a slight curl of one lip that told him the Healer was no fool and knew exactly what was going on. But all he did was bow again, and drop the crystals into the waiting hand of Zar's assistant.

Senator Amidala looked uninterested in the whole exchange but Sle'fey knew she was pleased by the way she nodded to them both. "I assume the information will be available to us sometime today."

The Vice Chairman turned, distaste on his face, but Zar only said smoothly, "Within the hour, Senator. My assistant is quite capable of copying information and collating it for ease of use. We should have the answers to many questions quickly now that we have the crystals." He nodded to Sle'fey. "While we are waiting, I believe that we need to address what happened after the Jedi reached Supreme Chancellor Palpatine's office."

"They lied about the reasons for going to the Chancellor's office. How can we believe anything they say at this juncture?"Amedda immediately protested. "No formal Judiciary hearings beforehand. Bypassing the law in order to push forward their own agenda. And then they just march in and murder the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic and cover up their crimes by killing the witnesses."

Before Amedda could say anything else, Senator Organa interrupted, "Not all of the witnesses have died, Vice Chairman. Some of them are in serious condition, true, but they are alive and should be able to testify in a few days. And the holovids should show us what happened as soon as they are delivered to this committee."

"The holovids are not already available?" Sle'fey tempered his voice into incredulity but he was not surprised. Those under Sidious's influence or who committed crimes in his name would want to make sure the vids were either lost or, at the very least, incriminating of the Jedi. However, tampering could flash back in their faces if handled correctly. "Surely the committee should have the footage by now."

Senator Organa shook his head. "The Judiciary and the Vice Chairman's office have been reluctant to release it."

"The holovids shouldn't need this much time for analysis. The raw footage should be sufficient…." Trying to appear incensed, Sle'fey waved his claws toward Amedda and his minions. "Unless someone is tampering with the files."

"How dare you imply that anyone of this committee would do such a thing!" Divinian's face was flushed with rage and several voices from the corners of the room shrilled in protest.

For several seconds, there was nothing but chaos but as the accusations died down, Senator Organa said, "Master Sle'fey has a point, however inappropriately stated." Dark eyes flashed annoyance at Divinian and then quickly toward Amedda. "My office has been asking for the holovids ever since this disaster took place. I would like to remind the Vice Chairman that each committee member must have their own copy so that we may conduct tests to determine if there _was_ tampering." Sle'fey could see that the Senator was not going to back down and some of the others were just as resolute. "Analysis or not, the raw files need to be delivered to the members now, sir. Before accusations of suppressing evidence reaches the holonet."

Insults echoed in the chamber but Organa and to a lesser extent the others sympathetic to the Jedi let the shouting persist for a few moments. Then Mon Mothma, usually the cool calm voice of reason, said sharply, "Enough, Senators, enough." Astonishment swept outward and all eyes turned toward her. "Senator Organa is right. Vice Chairman, you will arrange for the raw files to be delivered today or I will call for an investigation of your dealings in this matter."

The now purple-faced Amedda sputtered, "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me." She stared back at him, cold, implacable. There was not a single being in the room who had any doubt that she would follow through on her threat. "You have made excuse after excuse. There is no reason, no reason at all for the holovids to be kept from this committee. Unless, as Master Sle'fey has suggested, there has been tampering of the evidence."

Sly Moore, Palpatine's Senior Administrative Aide, leaned over to Amedda and whispered something. That he wasn't pleased was an understatement but finally he nodded and the woman slid out of her seat and disappeared through one of the doors.

Mas Amedda was still frowning, blue shadows and sharp edges, but he nodded toward Mothma. "Of course, Senator. You are quite correct. It was just that we wanted to be certain before distributing flawed holovids to the esteemed members of this committee. They will be available momentarily."

Mothma nodded her acceptance of the explanation although Sle'fey knew that no one in the room believed him. He had to wonder just how much had been changed but he was sure he would find out soon enough.

"You were about to tell us what happened when you went to arrest the Chancellor." Drawing himself up, puffing out a bit, Mas Amedda waved one hand toward Sle'fey. "I would like to remind you that anything you say before this committee will have the force of law behind it if it turns out to be untrue. But I also I suggest that you leave nothing out, Jedi."

Trest Sle'fey, Jedi Councilor and now head of the Order, bowed. "Of course, Vice Chairman. After all, we are here to see justice done, are we not?"

* * *

He was hoarse by the time he finished. The fact of the matter was that he really had left little out of that debacle, with the very large exception of Sera Tharten and her followers and the havoc they'd already wrecked upon the Order itself.

In the last hours, he'd been badgered and bullied and left little time to regroup as the questions were thrown at him but in a way, it was refreshing, almost invigorating. A give and take from manipulative sycophants and to a lesser extent from those seeking the truth and he matched them answer for question, never letting anything get by him. All wrapped up in a neat little package.

"Do you take us for fools, Jedi?" Divinian was scowling, probably furious that he'd handled the interrogation so well. "That was quite a story you told us, worthy of a holodrama. I suppose that you expect us to believe it, too. Such an absurd tale, the Supreme Chancellor a Sith Lord, wielding around a red lightsaber like some crazed maniac and killing Republic Senators and staff while they lay helpless." He sniffed disbelief at the air. "It's really too much, even for you."

"It is nothing but the truth, Senator, and I'm sure the holovids, once released to the committee, will support my descriptions of these tragic events." Sle'fey spread his paws wide. It was obvious to all those on the committee that the holovids still had not arrived but it didn't hurt to remind them of that fact.

Amidala of Naboo shifted in her seat, her ornate gown seeming to weigh her down, making her look paler than usual. But there was worry on her face, too. "Senator, when I came on the scene, there were dead fallen just as he'd described and the Chancellor's hand was still clutching a lightsaber."

"But Supreme Chancellor Palpatine was already dead, Senator Amidala. It would be easy enough to place it there before the guards arrived. And who is to say that Sle'fey himself didn't go around killing those poor victims," Amedda pointed out.

She turned toward him, her voice sharpening with irritation."Then I must ask you, Vice Chairman, where are the holovids? Surely, the Senior Administrative Aide is capable of bringing them to us."

"I am sure she is making copies for the members here in a timely and efficient manner. We wouldn't want there to be any mistakes." Mas Amedda's smile was mocking as he bowed slightly toward the Senator, then turned away. A clear dismissal.

"Yes, mistakes would be a problem. Be sure that when we do receive the holovids, we will be studying them very carefully." Her eyes were narrowed and hard as stone; she looked like she was going to say something else but instead Senator Zar spoke up.

"While we are waiting – patiently – for the holovids to arrive, my assistant was able to download the files that Master Sle'fey provided. I believe that we will need some time to go over them before we can make any final determination. They appear to be quite extensive."

"The files are unimportant. We haven't heard the testimony of the other surviving players in this debacle yet." Divinian turned his hard gaze toward Sle'fey and then to Jinn and Kenobi, derision clear in his eyes. "Not that I believe they will add anything to this investigation."

"Master Jinn and Knight Kenobi have both been injured. Surely we can wait until they are healed before taking their testimony. They've already been here too long." The Naboo Senator was known for having a soft heart when it came to the less fortunate but Sle'fey realized, too, that she and Jinn had known each other many years and she might be worried about him.

Divinian must have understood that as well. He sent her a smile that was all mockery. "That is a bit self-serving, Senator Amidala. Your _friendship_ with Jinn is well known."

She sent him a look so heated that it could have scorched a planet. "Both men need their rest, sir. As I'm sure Healer Leabe would attest."

"We are conducting an investigation into the murder of the Supreme Chancellor, Senator. Not some minor offense but one against the Republic itself." As Amidala started to protest again, Mas Amedda snapped back, "Your objection is noted." Then he turned away, staring at the Bendu, saying in a sharp, officious voice. "Qui-Gon Jinn of Naboo is called to testify."


	75. Chapter 40:Politicians part 2

**Chapter 40 – Politicians**

**Part 2**

It didn't take a Jedi's sensitivity to the Force to understand that there was more going on beneath the surface than just an investigation into the death of the Republic's leader; the air was seething with animosity and greed and a kind of hunger that fed on raw hatred. Qui-Gon could feel the tension, almost taste it.

It was obvious that they were looking for a scapegoat and Qui-Gon was not going to volunteer for the honor, not this time. The Force had demanded much of him, sacrifices almost too painful to acknowledge, loss and aching regret, but that time was now past. The currents were pulling him back to Naboo; his heart was, too. Home to an anguished wife and a bewildered son, to Anakin and the families who had lost loved ones under the Sith blade. To Le'orath, her skin carved into meat – how could he face her again knowing that somehow he should have protected her from such agony, that he should have prevented the death of their unborn child.

He had been prepared to give his own life to the Force, his training as a Jedi all but called for it. But this was more than his existence; it was his family's. This was a stark reminder why the Order demanded that attachment be forbidden.

But even as a Jedi, he had known pain. When Tahl died, he had almost gone mad with grief and he struggled for years afterwards trying to find serenity again but it had been a pale thing compared to this. He could only wonder how he continued to remain outwardly calm when every beat of his heart demanded he go home. He was breathless with the need of it. And yet, and yet he remained a captive of the Senate until the hearings were complete.

Now it was his turn to face them.

It didn't help that he was in physical pain as well. The meds had long ago worn off and Leabe's sharp attempts to get him to take more were in vain. He knew that he would need all his experience in diplomacy to get past the questioning and meds just dulled his awareness. He would need every advantage.

As he rose to take his place in that circle of bright light, he winced, too, at the ache in his chest. Tharten's last gift to him was still fresh, muscles and cauterized flesh pulling tight. Bacta could only do so much and it would be some time before he could move with any kind of grace. But he would not let them see him too vulnerable; they were already circling like hawk bats, waiting for the strike.

Trying to look dignified, trying not to hunch into the pain, he walked slowly, deliberately into that circle of bright light and stood there for a moment, gathering his strength. Then he gave a shallow bow, forcing himself not to jerk as he straightened up. But a glance at Master Sle'fey's concerned face and he knew that he'd given away more of his condition than he realized.

But for now, all he could do was stand there and waited patiently for the questioning to begin.

Healer Leabe was having none of it, of course, was visibly upset and apparently didn't care who knew it. Voice sharp and cutting as a vibroblade, he glared at them all as he snapped, "Senators, Master Jinn was wounded in his service to the Republic. You cannot be serious about making him stand during his testimony."

Divinian opened his mouth, clearly ready to mock the Healer when Senator Organa spoke up. "A guard will bring a hoverchair, Healer Leabe. We are not barbarians, after all."

"You do not speak for the rest of us, Organa. This man helped murder the Supreme Chancellor. He deserves more than a few hours of mild discomfort while we find out the truth. It might loosen his tongue." Divinian snarled back.

"Senator, if he collapses due to his injuries, it will prolong this investigation." Mon Mothma gestured toward Amedda. "Vice Chairman, you must agree that it is a small concession. Let Master Jinn have his hoverchair so that we can get back to finding out the truth."

Mas Amedda looked annoyed but gave a reluctant nod, gesturing toward one of the guards who hurried over, guiding a 'chair toward Qui-Gon. He had to admit it was welcome. He had expected to stand the entire time.

No sooner had Qui-Gon lowered himself into it when Divinian launched into invective. "Jinn, you are here because we know you had something to do with Supreme Chancellor Palpatine's murder. Your record speaks for itself. A former Jedi dismissed for incompetence. A known troublemaker, a thorn in the side of the Order – the records of your willful disobedience toward the Jedi Council fill several data crystals. A menace to all around you and to the Republic. Your last missions ended in disaster and frankly, knowing you as I do, I was surprised the Jedi kept you on as long as they did."

"Your information is incorrect, Senator. Master Jinn was a valued and important member of the Order until the Senate reduced funding to the point that dismissals were necessary." Padmé looked around the room, her face setting into stubbornness. "Which I have been protesting for some time, if you recall."

Divinian's scorn was palpable. "Yes, your love for the Jedi is well known, Senator Amidala, and wholly misplaced."

"I, for one, would like to hear Jinn's testimony." Fang Zar said sharply, "Preferably today."

There was a mutter of agreement from the other members of the committee. It would appear that some were growing restless with all the posturing. Amedda looked around, eyes narrowed and fierce but then bowed slightly toward Zar in acknowledgment. "Your point is taken, Senator." He turned back to Qui-Gon. "Tell us, Jinn, why you were in Palpatine's office. Surely an arrest of the Supreme Chancellor should not have included a civilian."

Everyone in the room must have known the truth, that he'd been taken there for execution. But Qui-Gon answered the question anyway. It would not be said that he was not cooperative. "I was under arrest and was about to be turned over to the Republic, to Palpatine or rather Darth Sidious for execution."

Padmé spoke up. "I can attest to that. I was there to try and stop it. Master Jinn had not had council during his hearings. I was able to get a stay of execution from the Judiciary. However, when I arrived, the room was chaotic. Many senators, their aides and Jedi were dead as was Chancellor Palpatine. My mission to make sure Master Jinn got a fair trial became secondary to aiding those still alive."

"How unselfish of you, Senator." Divinian's voice was full of scorn but it turned even sharper, more bitter as he glared at Qui-Gon. "Execution. From what I know of the case, Jinn deserved death. He'd murdered four people for profit, _among_ his other crimes."

"The Jedi's investigation, a bit more thorough than the Judiciary's, showed that Jinn was innocent. The files had been tampered with and when they were sliced, we found coding to make it appear that Jinn had committed the murders." With one weary paw, Sle'fey gestured toward Padmé. "In fact, on one of the dates of the supposed murders, Jinn was giving a party for his son and Senator Amidala was present. I'm sure she can attest to his presence on Naboo then."

"How convenient." Divinian's eyes flicked toward Padmé and then with a sneer cutting into his face, he turned back to Qui-Gon. "Then assuming your innocence – absurd as the thought is - but assuming it is the case, why _were_ you in Supreme Chancellor Palpatine's office?"

"It was meant to be a diversion." Qui-Gon said clearly, "Sidious was a superb manipulator. We believed that he would never let the Jedi close enough or with enough members present to make an arrest. So we used my pending execution as an excuse to get into Palpatine's office."

"A deception of the first order." Amedda was livid, his face purpling with emotion.

"Sidious have been deceiving us all for decades." He shrugged, trying not to wince as the flesh pulled tight. "He needed to be stopped before it was too late."

"And you and your ilk thought they should take matters into their own hands, bypassing the Judiciary and dispensing your own brand of justice." The Vice Chairman pushed himself forward, horns high, his eyes eager and hungry. "Whose idea was it? Who agreed to it? We want names, Jinn."

Head held high, Qui-Gon looked around the room, some beings hungry for revenge, others troubled or confused and then he glanced at Obi-Wan's tense face and back to Amedda's greedy intensity.

He knew that it would come to this, the naming of names but there was nothing to be done. Sle'fey had known and Xacor and the other Jedi. Sidious had had to be removed before his poison destroyed the legacy of a thousand generations, no matter what the cost. He had to keep reminding himself of that, that the cost had been worth it. He wondered how long he'd have to keep repeating it until he finally believed it again.

He took a slow deep breath, trying not to cough as his wounds reminded him of what had been done to him, what he had done. "I agreed to it."

"Well, well, same old Jinn. Always ready to sacrifice for the Jedi Order, I see, even after they treated you like day old trash." Divinian grinned, looking as if he'd been gifted the galaxy and was greedy for more. "Who else, Jinn? Who else?"

Trest Sle'fey stood up, walked over to where Qui-Gon was sitting and one paw resting on the hoverchair back, said sharply, "You need not badger the witness, Senator. If you had asked me when I was being questioned, I would have told you that I also agreed to it as did Master Xacor. It was not something to be hidden. We did what we felt was right for the good of the Republic."

For the first time since they'd entered the room, Obi-Wan spoke up. Clipped, an undercurrent of loss and fury staining his voice, he said, "I also agreed to it, Senator. The man was a Sith Lord. He had to be removed."

Twisting around to face Obi-Wan, Divinian sniffed contempt. "You'll have your turn, Kenobi. But I'm glad to see that you are willing to cooperate this time. You were more reticent in the past."

Eyes narrowed, face etched white, Obi-Wan looked thoroughly enraged, almost on the edge of reason and the other man jerked back, obviously startled by the change. "Senator Divinian, my memories must be quite different than yours. I only remember that you lied to get what you want, tried to ruin the careers and lives of innocent beings, not the least of which was my own. Why should this be any different?"

While Divinian was waving his hands about, sputtering to the others in the room about how maligned he was by Jedi who had no business talking to him like that, Qui-Gon twisted around to face Obi-Wan more fully, said softly, "Padawan, this isn't about the past but the present. I think…."

But Obi-Wan only shook his head. "Qui-Gon, you should know better than anyone what this man is capable of. He nearly ruined Astri's life, nearly drove me out of the Jedi and into prison. It is not because of revenge that I remind you of his actions but his potential for further harm."

Qui-Gon knew that his padawan was right. Divinian had tried before to ruin Obi-Wan's chances to become a Jedi and now the man was trying again to ruin them all. His relentless drive to cut funding, his ruthless methods were things to be guarded against. That he had co-conspirators among the Senators was a truth Qui-Gon could not forget, either.

He sent Obi-Wan a brief nod, letting him know that his concerns were understood. He would be cautious.

When he turned back to face the Senators, they were still shouting, the room storm-filled with protests, accusations and posturing, limbs and tentacles and a host of appendages all waving about in frenzy, a cacophony of sound and motion.

Senator Organa gestured for silence, once, twice and yet still it took some time before he was able to say, "Senators, I would ask that we not turn this into a hunt to place blame but an honest look at the reasons for the Jedi's actions."

Divinian just sputtered his scorn. "Their reasons are irrelevant. They murdered the Supreme Chancellor and we need to know who was in on the conspiracy." He swiveled around, glaring again at Master Sle'fey. "Who else, Jedi? Who else?"

Sle'fey straightened, his muzzle curled back as he stared at them all. "As I said, there is nothing hidden here about our reasons for attempting to arrest Sidious." His dark eyes scanned across the room, glancing down at Qui-Gon and then at Obi-Wan and finally his gaze turned to Mas Amedda. "The current Jedi Council agreed to it. It was unanimous. We had solid evidence that Darth Sidious - Palpatine's true name - was a menace to the Republic and we had to stop him before it was too late. Thanks partially to Master Jinn, we succeeded."

Amedda looked furious. "The entire Jedi Council? No one argued against it? Not even Master Tharten? I would have thought…."

"You would have thought what? That she would have argued against arresting a known murderer? Against a man that was about to destroy the Republic in order to gain power? An interesting concept, Vice Chairman. I'd like to know why you think Sera Tharten would be against such a thing." Sle'fey's fur stood up slightly, the white swirling agitation.

Qui-Gon was surprised that Sle'fey would even talk about Tharten. The news of her death had not reached the Senate yet, although he thought it would only be a matter of time. This was a dangerous game the Bothan was playing.

"Master Tharten's sharp mind and obliging outlook are more in keeping with the wishes of the Senate. She would certainly have cooperated with the Judiciary in this matter, not gone in with lightsabers drawn like avenging demons." Amedda was leaning forward, glaring at Sle'fey, his horns sharp against the air, his blue skin flush with agitation.

But Sle'fey looked more concerned about what Amedda had just said. "Lightsabers drawn, Vice Chairman? A colorful metaphor I'm sure, but we gave Palpatine ample opportunity to surrender and only under attack did we defend ourselves."

Fang Zar smacked his hands against the duraplast table, a sharp biting sound, startling everyone into silence. "Enough of this." His face was lined in frowns. "As head of the Jedi Council, Master Tharten's testimony would be crucial in this investigation. I'm surprised she isn't here. Is there any reason why she is not?"

For a moment, Trest Sle'fey looked almost hunted but then he gave a little shiver of movement, enough to smooth down his fur. "Master Tharten is the reason why we know of Darth Sidious's true identity."

"I didn't realize that Master Tharten went on missions anymore." Zar seemed confused by it as he gazed toward the Bothan.

"She wasn't on any fact-finding mission, Senator Zar." Another quick shake and Sle'fey's muzzle curled again, contempt in the gleam of cannid teeth, dark emotion in his eyes. "She knew who he was because… she was in league with Darth Sidious."

If Qui-Gon had thought it was noisy before, it was nothing to the explosive roar of sound that followed Sle'fey's pronouncement. The room was alive with it: Senators shouting, some of the spectators on the sides muttering or laughing at the ignominy of one of the leaders of the Jedi being accused of wrong-doing by one of their own kind, the stamp of feet, the slap of hands against duraplast as Amedda called for silence. The Force, too, was churning, reds and blacks, an oily sludge that spread across the ether mixing with clearer currents, a smear of light and dark possibilities.

He looked up at the Bothan, whispered urgently, "What do you think you are doing?"

"This will be the least of our problems, Jinn. Sooner or later, her part in all this would have come out anyway. Better now than at a less advantageous time." Sle'fey's white fur bristling with concern, still the Jedi Master met Qui-Gon's gaze squarely. "What is more troublesome is that they haven't produced the holovid from Palpatine's office yet, even with Senator Mothma's insistence. That means that slicers are working feverously to change it and not in our favor."

Qui-Gon nodded. He knew that every minute the holovid remained in Amedda's hands would be time used to help frame the Jedi for Palpatine's death. They could only hope that the other Senators were intent on getting to the truth and would be suspicious of such a long delay.

"Better that they find out now about Tharten. Her death and the part she played in Palpatine's games will matter little when everything is revealed." Looking around the room, Sle'fey sniffed the air, obviously sensing the reek of outraged fury. "They will be baying for our blood soon."

"Did you foresee this?" Qui-Gon said. His own Force powers were grounded in the now but Trest Sle'fey had shown some skill in prediction when he was younger.

But the Jedi just shook his head. "Zak Xacor was more adept than I. No, it does not take Jedi perceptions to know how this will go. Dark power feeds on chaos. And those who use their abilities for evil will take the uncertainties here to push for the destruction of the Order." He looked down, a cannid smile gleaming in the light. "One should always be prepared."

"What are you up to, Sle'fey?" Qui-Gon glanced at Obi-Wan who was listening to them both in bewilderment before turning back to the Bothan. "What preparations?"

Another toothy grin. "You will see soon enough."

The growls and bellows and hard slaps of flesh against duraplast were beginning to die down. Amedda, now flushed triumphant, half-shouted again for order and for the most part, the other Senators listened to him. "Jedi, you would have us believe that the head of the Jedi Order was plotting against the Republic? This is almost as absurd as the picture you have painted of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine as some kind of Sith Lord."

"I have proof. The files that you and Senator Divinian have so casually set aside contained the records of her actions against the Jedi and the Republic. Darth Sidious and she are linked, strongly linked to the murder of several individuals, including Senators of the Republic, as well as slave-trading, selling armament to the Separatists and other crimes." Sle'fey paused, waiting for the furor to quiet further. "In addition, four days ago, Palpatine ordered her to kill Qui-Gon Jinn while he was incarcerated in the Force cells in the Temple awaiting trial."

Another sharp roar but Sle'fey did not stop. "He wanted Master Jinn dead by any means necessary and she agreed to it. We have a…." Amedda was bellowing for order but the Bothan only said calmly, "holovid of her attempt to kill Qui-Gon and her naming Palpatine as Sith Lord."

Divinian was livid. "Truly worthy of a HoloNet drama, Jedi. The conspirators huddled around a flickering transmission, a Sith Lord incanting spells, a Jedi bowing down and agreeing to betray her vows, her people, her calling for the sake of power." He laughed, harsh and strong in the still-noisy room. "I'd pay credits to see it."

Sle'fey bowed, mockery in the way his paws moved and the lowering of his muzzle. "Put away your credit chips, then Senator. You might find the lives lost and the near-destruction of the Republic to be entertaining but I do not."

Her patience near an end, Senator Mothma said sharply, "Where is Sera Tharten then? She needs to come before this committee to answer these allegations. I assume you have her in custody."

Qui-Gon tried not to look at Obi-Wan but the way his old padawan jerked back, there was no way to avoid sharing a worried glance. Sle'fey, too, stiffened but he must have known that there would be questions. It had only been a matter of time and now that time had arrived.

The Bothan drew himself up, straightening into ready stance, his eyes scanning the room, his muzzle pulled back. If Qui-Gon hadn't known better, he would have said that Sle'fey was readying himself for the hunt. Perhaps he was.

"Senator Mothma, a good question. Alas, she is not." Qui-Gon could hear the click of claws against the duraplast back of his hoverchair, a nervous counterbeat to the calm tone of Sle'fey's voice. "As I have already said, she attempted to kill Qui-Gon Jinn. She smuggled in a vibroshiv, gutted Master Jinn while he was helpless and was watching him bleed to death when Knight Kenobi and his padawan, Atel Sl'etah, arrived at the scene."

"Qui-Gon?" He could barely hear Padme's soft question; she was staring at him, horror etched on her face and she started to rise, looking as if she was about to hurry over to him, Senate protocol be damned. But he shook his head. Now was not the time.

She was already sinking back down into her chair when Sle'fey said, "While Padawan Sl'etah tried to stop Jinn's bleeding, Tharten attacked Knight Kenobi and he was forced to defend himself. Unfortunately, she pressed her advantage and almost succeeded in her assault. She was able to injure Kenobi petty badly but in doing so, she grew confident and overreached. The lightsaber wounds she incurred during the battle proved to be too great."

The room was dead silent, the Senators and their staff and the hangers-on all looking at Sle'fey in disbelief. "Before she died, she revealed that Palpatine had ordered Jinn's death and that he was Darth Sidious. We have the holovids and there were several witnesses to the attack through feeds from the cell. Healer Leabe was on the scene a short time later and can attest to the injuries of Jinn and Kenobi."

The others appeared to be in shock but Divinian just started laughing, the sound of it ugly, wild. "This is unbelievable. You must realize that you have just handed us your own destruction, Jedi."

"My destruction, Senator?" Sle'fey sniffed disdain. "For keeping Tharten from murdering Master Jinn? I think not."

"I don't give a damn about Tharten. She was a Jedi and less important than a grubworm under my boot." Divinian snapped back, "I am talking about her naming Palpatine as a Sith Lord. An absurd accusation, one you keep mouthing, and yet your source is dead. How very convenient for you."

Sle'fey's fur was whirling, a sure sign of strong emotion, but his voice was cold. "Do you think that I'd go on just her word? She could easily have lied to us. But we found hundreds of data crystals on her crimes and the links between her and Palpatine - Darth Sidious - are undeniable." He rocked back, shrugging, obviously playing to the committee, although Qui-Gon could see how nervous he was, claws scrapping against the back of the hoverchair, raised fur along his throat. "As I said, we sent copies to the Judiciary before we went to the Chancellor's office and we can provide the holovid of Jinn's attempted murder without delay. You have merely to ask." He looked straight at Amedda. "We have nothing to hide in this."

Before Divinian could fire back another insult, Organa spoke up, "Master Jedi, I for one, would like to see the holovids. We need to get to the bottom of this investigation and the more information, the better our final determination to be."

There was a mutter of assent and Sle'fey nodded toward Leabe. While the healer was busy talking into his comlink, Amedda, with one sharp glare at Senator Organa, was already back on the offensive.

"You talk of having nothing to hide and yet we only learn of Tharten's murder now. Did you think we'd not find out?"

Sle'fey ignored Amedda's question for the moment. "Senator Organa, the holovid including Tharten's actions with regard to Qui-Gon Jinn and Palpatine will be here momentarily."

Then he turned back to the Vice Chairman, saying flatly, "Self-defense is not murder. Unless, of course, you've changed the law?" Before he could protest, Sle'fey continued, "And to answer your question, no, we fully intended to reveal that Master Tharten had died after Palpatine's arrest. We felt it would put Sidious on his guard if he knew about it beforehand. It was a delaying tactic, nothing more."

"So you say." Mas Amedda's voice boomed out, the tone of it scathing and wholly unbelieving.

"Yes, so I say. But I would remind you that Tharten's death would have meant nothing to the Senate if she had not been implicated in Sidious's plots. A footnote in some bureaucrat's weekly report." Sle'fey glanced down, his dark eyes gleaming regret for a moment as he gazed at Obi-Wan and then Qui-Gon. Sadness there and determination and a myriad of other emotions that spoke of suffering too long accepted as unavoidable, unendurable. "We know how little you value the Jedi, Senators. You have made it perfectly clear over the years."

"Scum who whine about funding cuts, who take much and give little in return, do you think we…." Divinian's sneering voice slowed to a halt as Sly Moore, once Palpatine's Senior Administrative Aide and now assistant to Amedda, sauntered into the room.

As she approached Amedda's seat, she bowed toward him, all subservience and satisfaction. "The holovids of Supreme Chancellor's final hours are ready, Senators. Downloadable at your convenience."

Turning as one to the Vice Chairman, the Senators looked expectant, waiting for the signal to begin. Amedda seemed to understand this, his body puffing up, his horns stabbing into the air, an indulgent smile on his face. "I think we should allow Jinn and Sle'fey to stand down and rejoin the others at this time. We can always recall them later if necessary."

With no objections, Qui-Gon pushed himself out of the hoverchair and hobbled over next to Obi-Wan and sat down again. He'd been still for too long and his body had stiffened. He also desperately needed pain meds but they would have to wait until they returned to the Healer's ward.

Sle'fey lowered himself in the seat on the other side of Qui-Gon; as he did so, he said urgently, "Be prepared. I expect they've changed most of what truly happened into something else."

Qui-Gon expected no less. This was likely to be bad. He could only hope that it wasn't irreversible.

Nodding to the assembly, Vice Chairman Mas Amedda, one of Palpatine's most devoted followers, leaned over, pushed a button and the transmission flickered into the air.


	76. Chapter 41: Finding their way part 1

A/N - sorry for the very long delay. I was writing other stories (Merlin) and needed to finish them up. I'm hoping to finish this one next.

* * *

**Chapter 41 – Finding their way part 1**

Qui-Gon knew it would be bad.

The Force was roiling in discord, blacks and reds of greed, malicious excitement and the satisfaction of bring a prey to ground from Amedda and Divinan and a dozen others standing there watching the Jedi with revenge in their eyes. In the currents, too, were the blues of guilt-sorrow, swirling around Obi-Wan as he sat there, his face pulling into grief and the yellows of cowardice from some of the Senators. The greys were all Zar's and Mothma's, their confusion and concern bleeding into the ether and the soft whites of determination from Amidala and Organa and a few others too far away to pinpoint.

All focused on the holovid that was springing into life before them.

Shoving aside his own grief, his body, his mind tied there by duty and the chains of capture, unable to go to his family until this was done, he drew in a breathe, let it out, prepared himself for what was to come.

It was bad, worse that he'd ever thought. All a lie, from the first moment the scene unfolded.

As the transmission sharpened, Qui-Gon could see the doors in Palpatine's office beginning to open; he could see the hazy figures of the Jedi, their faces full of grim determination already edging fast into ferocity. Sle'fey's muzzle pulled back into a snarl, Xacor's eyes promising slow death to any who crossed him. Qui-Gon was center stage among the crowd, his hands free, the Force cuffs dangling in his grip, a triumphant smile on his face as he strode purposefully toward Palpatine.

An impossible distortion of what had happened.

Lightsabers ready in their hands but still unlit, the Jedi spread out, flanking the guards. The onlookers among them looked almost bewildered, as if they'd come there for something else entirely and only now realizing that they were in danger. Several of them began edging along the walls, stealing toward the exits.

As the Jedi advanced on him, Palpatine shrank back behind his desk, a frail, ancient grandfatherly figure, blinking at them as if he didn't understand what was happening and beginning to be terrified of the possibilities.

"What is the meaning of this? You can't just come in here…," Palpatine was saying, some of the confidence in his voice returning, although he kept behind the desk as if he thought it would shield him from harm.

Sle'fey's muzzle pulled back into a contemptuous sneer; he marched over to the man, fingering his saber as he went, intimidating and confident and lethal. "Darth Sidious, you will come with us to a place of trial to be judged for your crimes against the Jedi. You, sir, are a Sith Lord and will face the ultimate penalty for it."

"This is beyond belief." His voice quavering just as Qui-Gon had remembered it, the chancellor was already babbling, looking the part of the innocent, tears in his eyes. It would seem that the slicer had done an excellent job of using Palpatine's own words to mold the deceit into believability. "I had always tried to help the Order. And to lie... to fabricate such accusations is beyond anything I would have imagined."

"Spare us the protestations, Sidious. We know that you are using the Senate to destroy the Jedi. Did you think we would not notice?"

With a wave of his paw, Sle'fey signaled the Jedi and as one, their sabers suddenly turned on, humming fiercely, the brilliant light discordant and deadly in their hands.

There was a sharp rising clamor of alarm from the crowd, and more of them were looking towards escape, obviously hoping to get past the sabers and out of harm's way. But the Jedi were blocking the exits.

The holovid image of Palpatine was drawing back, as if he had somehow regained the courage to stand up to armed Jedi, looking more like the Republic's honored Supreme Chancellor with every breath. "You have no right to come in here and make false accusations. This is insane."

"Don't bother denying it, Sidious. You have used your powers to bring down the Jedi Order." Sle'fey sniffed the air, looked at Palpatine with implacable eyes. "Now it is our turn. We will bring stability and peace to the people of the galaxy. Our kind of peace."

Palpatine put a hand over his heart, so much acting the part of a frightened old man that Qui-Gon would have thought it worthy of accolades among the holovid dramas if it weren't so serious. As he stepped back, the chancellor shouted, "They're going to take over the Republic."

Suddenly, there was hysteria in the air. The Republic guards were already powering up their weapons as Palpatine shrank back, wailing as if terrified, "Guards, help! They are trying to kill me."

Surging forward, the guards were already shoving their pikes at the Jedi. The rest of the room was in chaos, underlings and Senators alike rushing to get away. But the Jedi were there first, beginning to cut down the innocents, limbs and heads flying, fighting to destroy everything.

The screams of agony were a cacophony of sound, high-pitched wails and the gurgles of death and above it all, Sle'fey was shouting, "Destroy them all. Leave no witnesses."

Palpatine's face was drawn back in shock, his eyes wild and terrified, and he stumbled away, waving his arms, looking for all the universe like a poor defenseless man about to be skewered.

Looking past the haze of transmission into the reality of the Senate chamber, Qui-Gon could see that the images of Jedi hacking apart defenseless beings were having an effect on those watching the horror. Some of the Senators were sending him glances that spoke of revenge or fear or speculation as if they were wondering how useful he would be to them if pressed. It made his skin crawl.

Shuddering, as he turned his attention back to the vid, somehow Palpatine had gotten a saber, a green one, not the red he had truly used. The man was fighting clumsily, as if he'd never held a lightsaber in his hands before.

Atel, too, was there battling alongside Xacor, both of them trying to get past the desk and kill the chancellor. As Palpatine ducked to evade Xacor's blade, somehow she got in the way, and before he could pull back, Xacor plunged his saber into her body.

One scream and she fell, already lifeless, her eyes glazing over as she stared out toward the holovid feed and then slipped out of sight.

"This is… I can't…." The soft voice pulled Qui-Gon's attention away from the holovid. Sitting beside him, watching Amedda's filthy lies take form, Obi-Wan seemed to be on the edge of the abyss. Choking in grief. As he turned to look at Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan bowed his head into his hands, unable to watch any more.

Qui-Gon could do nothing for him except place one hand on his shoulder and murmur softly, "She is at peace, my padawan." He knew it was unbearable now but someday, Obi-Wan would remember how she had truly died, to save her master, to save them all. Not this abomination.

Another scream, shrill and agonizing, pulled Qui-Gon's attention back toward the false images crowding the air.

As he watched, he could see that the counterfeit Xacor had already plunged his lightsaber into Palpatine; the man was drowning in bright blood, his face going white with pain. But then, somehow, the chancellor seemed to gather strength, looking more the avenging angel of old legend than a frail grandfather. With a great heave, the lightsaber still boiling in his chest, he shoved the lit blade in his hand into an astonished Xacor.

Staggering back, the Jedi Master collapsed, crashed sprawling across the desk, curses bubbling out of his mouth even as he died.

Palpatine, the surreal hero of Amedda's attempt to discredit the Jedi, was already sinking down, the saber rolling out of his hand and onto the floor and he coughed again, clearly dying but still the stalwart leader of the Republic. He was shouting for his guards to get back, that he was going to destroy the Jedi before they hurt anyone else. As he leaned down to press the switch to call down the lightning, he gasped out his last breath.

Great bolts of energy began to pour down, hitting friend and foe alike, tearing into them until there was nothing but bright flashes of brilliance, too dazzling for the holovid feed to record. It took a few brief moments but as the scene cleared, Qui-Gon could see the sprawl of bodies, some writhing in agony, some dead.

The counterfeit Sle'fey rose, painfully slowly, drawing it out as only a holodrama could. The blue-hazed forms of Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, too, were pulling to their feet.

The Bothan snarled out, "We have to make it look good. They'll never believe us if we don't make sure it looks like Palpatine's a Sith."

He staggered over to the chancellor's body, dragged it out from behind the desk and began to arrange limbs as if sculpting a tableau for his own amusement. Pulling out a saber that Qui-Gon recognized now as Sidious's own, the vid showed Sle'fey placing it firmly in Palpatine's hand.

In the midst of all the carnage, Qui-Gon's image stepped forward, his saber slashing through Palpatine's neck and leaning down, pulled up the head, grinning into the vacant eyes of the corpse. There was satisfaction in his sneer as he said, "It would seem throwing me out of the Jedi was unwise, Supreme Chancellor. See how you like it." Then he tossed the skull aside, kicking it as it fell; he looked like he was playing some kind of macabre game as he watched it roll a bit and stop at the tip of Sle'fey's boot.

"Kenobi, make yourself useful. See if there are any blasters around. Use them on anyone still moving." The Bothan looked annoyed, sending a sharp glare toward Qui-Gon and then toed the head aside. "Remember, no survivors."

Behind him, the image of Obi-Wan shrugged and then began to dig through the bodies, obviously looking for weapons.

"Wouldn't want all the wounds to be from lightsabers, would we, Jinn?" When Qui-Gon nodded, Sle'fey, said, "We'll need it to look as if he'd tried to kill us, more than just the girl. Much as I don't relish it, I need saber marks across my fur, not too deep but enough so that it looks like he'd gone on the offensive."

The other Qui-Gon frowned, "It will hurt."

Sle'fey just nodded, "Yes, but pain is but an end. They'll think me a hero, accede to all our demands as I moan about being the victim here. I might even end up Supreme Chancellor." As he gave out a little laugh and shoved his arm forward, the transmission showed Qui-Gon shrugging and then drawing his saber across the Bothan's fur. In the vid, the wounds matched perfectly to those Sle'fey had truly suffered.

It was sickening.

There was another shimmer, the vid faltering. As Qui-Gon watched, the figures moved around, destroying, desecrating; the tableau began to match the reality of what really had happened, what others would have seen. Then the doors to Palpatine's office started to open, Amidala stepping into the room, her guards at her back.

The holovid dimmed to nothingness.

It was a breathtaking piece of deceit, so brilliantly sliced into lies that Qui-Gon could see no way out of it. The Senators would believe everything in that holovid. Everything.

* * *

For a moment, there was stunned silence. Then a waterfall of sound roared through the Interrogation Hall, crashing over them all, drowning the Jedi in hatred.

Qui-Gon couldn't help but flinch back. The pain meds had long since faded and he was ill-prepared for such a reaction or the depth to which Amedda would lie for power. Apparently, the Vice Chairman would do just about anything to gain control of the Republic.

There were fists raised high and appendages of all kinds, suckers and tentacles and paws, all out for blood. So, too, were mouths and the high pitched whine of translator devices shouting destruction.

It was chaos.

Beginning to worry that the Republic guards would forget their duty in the heat of the moment, Qui-Gon shifted closer to Obi-Wan. "Be prepared. This may turn dangerous."

For a moment, Obi-Wan sent him a look that spoke of the past, of desperate situations, of circumstances impossible to escape but somehow they always had. "Nothing new then."

Any other time and Qui-Gon would have smiled. It was so typically Obi-Wan, his irreverent sense of the absurd peering through. It was the first sign that his old apprentice was fighting the despair that had followed him like a black cloud. But things were growing worse and he didn't have time to do more than nod.

Sle'fey was the calm in the midst of the storm. White fur unruffled, his dark eyes following the rising hatred with cool focus, he said, "Vice Chairman, I applaud your slicer's talent. A rare gift indeed to turn innocence into guilt so easily."

Qui-Gon could barely hear him above the cacophony but Amedda must have. His smile was triumphant, satisfied, as if he'd gotten everything he could ever desire, all in a single moment.

As the blue-skinned Chagrian nodded his victory, the rest of the crowd was growing more agitated. Even Padmé looked worried, almost uncertain about what she had seen. Qui-Gon couldn't blame her for believing the worst; the holovid had been damning.

Divinian shouted out, "We've seen enough. These Jedi murdered the Supreme Chancellor. Used their powers to try and take over the Republic." Noise rising in the Interrogation Hall spread like a black storm as the howls of hatred grew louder. "Death to the Jedi. Death to them all!"

In the distance, Qui-Gon could see Padmé gesturing helplessly toward them, her face white with disbelief. Organa was arguing with her and a little beyond Zar and Mothma were also deep in conversation. Around the edges of the chamber, the guards were already fingering their weapons, clearly waiting for the signal to arrest or perhaps kill them. It would take only a single spark to turn this into a mob bent on destruction.

As he drew in a breath, trying to center himself for whatever might come, he could hear Sle'fey whispering to Leabe, telling him to signal the Order for lock-down. It was something they'd not done in a thousand years. An action sure to incite further calls for the destruction of the Jedi and yet what choice did they have? Even now, the Republic forces could be scurrying to storm the Temple.

Amedda roared above the cacophony, "Justice must be served. You have seen the evidence. What is your verdict?"

As the howls for guilty swelled into the chamber, Padmé rose, squared her shoulders and walked toward the middle of the room. The brilliance of the light shining down on her, a woman alone in the center of a firestorm. She stood there, patiently waiting for the rest of the Senators to shout out their madness. In the midst of it all, he could see that she was talking to Amedda, only a whisper, not enough for Qui-Gon to hear.

The Vice Chairman kept looking at her and then toward the Jedi. His eyes narrowed in suspicion but there was also avarice there as if what she was saying was bringing out a kind of blood-lust, a hunger for political gain at her expense.

Or was it something else?

Qui-Gon's concern began to rise. If Padmé had believed the holovid even after a their close friendship of ten years, if she tossed aside all that she knew of him and the Jedi based on lies, if she's finally succumbed to political expedience, then there was no hope for the Jedi or anyone else.

But it could also be a ploy, a delaying tactic. Padmé was a wily negotiator and not above hiding her motivations to further what she thought was right. The Battle of Naboo had shown that very clearly.

In the distance, Organa was shouting, "Let Senator Amidala speak."

There were still growls, furious shouts and calls for death but the rest of the chamber quieted, waiting for her to condemn the Jedi or herself for siding with them. In either case, it didn't take long to find out.

"Long have I defended the Jedi. Long have I made excuses for them, fought for their funding, and for their right to practice their powers, believing that they were using them for the good of the Republic." Her voice was full of soft and full of sorrow but it grew stronger, harder, more sure with every word.

In the Force, there was a churning of reds and blacks, hatred piled upon hatred, a thirst for blood and the destruction of enemies. But surrounding Padmé, Qui-Gon could sense nothing but resolution, her Force signature bleeding greys and whites into the ether. There was no hatred there.

Sle'fey must have sensed it, too. He kept quiet, patiently waiting to see how this would play out.

Padmé refused to look at the Jedi, kept her attention on Mas Amedda. There was deliberation in every movement of her hands and the stubborn lift of her chin. "Senators, much as it pains me to say this, I cannot deny what I've seen with my own eyes. This holovid is damning. Certainly most would say that nothing else is needed to condemn those who perpetrated such horrors to their fates."

Qui-Gon couldn't believe what he was hearing.

After all that they had been through together, Naboo and its aftermath, her growing love for Anakin, her friendship with his family, the Bendu working with her for the betterment of their people, for her to toss aside her long-held beliefs for such a transparent lie was startling. More than startling, it was not possible. It had to be a trick.

Another uproar, more pointed now, rising sharp and then quieting as the others realized that she was not finished. Beyond, Senator Organa was gesturing for attention. But she ignored him, ignored them all; instead she was gazing across the chamber with determination in her eyes.

"This has gone too far." She shook her head, looked down at her hands and then back up toward Qui-Gon, some undecipherable message in her eyes, almost a plea for patience before it hardened back into implacability. "Supreme Chancellor Palpatine was much beloved among our people. Now would not be too soon for those base enough to betray the Republic and all that it stands for to be punished for their crimes."

Amedda's face was smug with triumph. He started to call out, likely for the destruction of the Jedi, but Padmé was not finished.

"But still we are a Republic with laws to uphold, no matter how heinous the crime. For something of this magnitude, with all the political implications that it entails, will need more than just a single holovid, especially one, I must say it, Vice Chairman, that was late in arriving. There would be questions, certainly some fallout if we rushed headlong into condemnation without further evidence."

Amedda was starting to turn purple again, sensing perhaps that he was about to be thwarted by the young Senator.

"I am sure it will be forthcoming. Of course, as the acting head of the Republic, Vice Chairman, you will have to make sure the law is followed to the letter in this regard. I'd hate to think what your enemies might do if you were to let emotions sway you in this matter." She looked both contrite and determined, staring at Amedda with resolution in her eyes. "We must bring this before the full Senate."

"Don't be ridiculous. We do not need to waste the Senate's time on something so obvious." Divinian snarled back, pointing one finger at her in accusation.

She was cool as ice, looking at him with disdain. "A waste of time, Senator? Bringing to light those responsible for the death of the Supreme Chancellor? Of the betrayal of all we hold dear? Surely, even you must see the need for absolute certainty in resolving something so critical to the Republic."

"Little fool, the Jedi are not critical to anything except lining their own pockets. They are blood-leeches, useless drains on the Republic's resources and a danger to us all. The fewer there are, the better."

"And if that were so, Senator Divinian, then the entire Senate should decide their fate." Mon Mothma spoke up. "I have grave doubts about the holovid considering its lateness. We need to hear eyewitness accounts as well as the forensic results before we can make a final determination." She nodded toward the others. "I move that we hear the witnesses tomorrow as well as play the holovid again so that the whole Senate might see for themselves just what was done and let them decide the fates of Master Sle'fey, Knight Kenobi and former Master Jinn. We can do nothing less as lawgivers for the Republic."

Padmé nodded, turning toward the Jedi for a second, a fleeting smile that only Qui-Gon could see and then solemn again, said, "I second the motion."

Amedda was livid-purple, obviously furious with the delay but apparently he could see no way around it. Reluctance in his voice, he called for the motion.

It was a near thing but the final outcome was not to Amedda's liking. The Senators voted to postpone their fate a day and let the entire Senate hear the evidence.

Padmé had won this round.


	77. Chapter 41: Finding their way part 2

**Chapter 41 – Finding their way**

**Part 2

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**

With a surprising swiftness, he, Obi-Wan and Sle'fey were hustled out of the Interrogation Hall, Republic guards at the ready, followed closely by Naboo forces. Even as the doors closed behind them, Qui-Gon could hear Padmé tell the Vice Chairman that she was merely offering her own security forces as backup in case there were problems. Naboo guards had experience with Force powers and knew how to deal with them while the Republic guards did not. Hers was cool reason against the increasing agitation of Amedda but in the end, she won yet again.

Qui-Gon had his own suspicions. Her argument was sound but a secondary effect was to protect them from potential 'accidents', at least overnight.

A brilliant politician, even if she might have just sacrificed her own career should Amedda twist her words into something else. But Padmé was never one to let innocents die if she could stop it. And she had been very careful in the choices of her words. There were several ways to interpret them, from condemnation of the Jedi to questioning Amedda's own methods and the lateness of the holovid.

In any case, they were relatively safe for the moment.

There were few places that could hold a Jedi outside of the Temple but the cells under the Senate building were still there, likely left over from the Sith Wars. Indeed, from the look of them, dust and the acrid smell of long-disused air, they might have been even older than that. Certainly, they were minimal, bare walls, a latrine in the far corner and metal cots on one wall.

It did remind him a little too much of the cells under the Temple. A brief shudder at the still-raw memories, he squared his shoulders and stepped inside, Sle'fey and Obi-Wan close behind him. As the cell powered up, Qui-Gon could feel the Force thinning. It was there just beyond his reach and useless. A prison, holding them trapped until the final determination.

Just outside the cell, he could see the guards positioning themselves, settling in for a long night's wait.

Sle'fey folded himself onto one of the cots, slumping, looking more worried than he'd seemed only a few moments before. "It would appear that those with grudges against the Jedi Order have the upper hand at the moment. Amedda was bolder than I had expected." He scowled, his muzzle curling in contempt. "Although his boldness may yet be his undoing."

"_If_ the holovid can be shown to be false." Qui-Gon shook his head. "It was a deft hand and very convincing."

"Yes, very convincing. Perhaps a little too much so. There are parts of that holovid that could be easily disproved by other means if the Senators would only investigate further." Sle'fey sat up, faced them both squarely. "But I'm not sure that they will. We must be prepared for the worst."

Obi-Wan had been huddled along one wall, his face cut by a pained frown, but he pushed off, limped over and stopped abruptly in front of the Jedi Master. "And are you preparing for the worst, Sle'fey? You've been playing with lives as if they were nothing to you. A damn game of politics and power and now it has come back to haunt us all."

Staring up at him, Sle'fey said sharply, "Do you think we should just have ignored Sidious, then, Kenobi? Let him destroy the Jedi and the Republic because we shouldn't get our hands dirty?"

"There were other ways, more honest," Obi-Wan snapped back.

"In case you hadn't noticed, Sidious had a supermajority in the Senate and his hands in more than a few criminal activities. Your kind of honesty would have only alerted him to us." Sle'fey's gaze was too sharp, too knowing. "You forget yourself, Kenobi. You forget that this is more than your loss."

Obi-Wan's voice was cold. "I forget nothing."

"Then I suggest that you curb your tongue. This conversation is certainly being recorded." Sle'fey's eyes flicked toward the guards and then back toward Obi-Wan. "I did what I had to do. If I lose my life for it, then so be it. It is a small price to pay to rid the galaxy of the Sith."

"And all those others? The ones who were not given a choice? Who paid in blood and death for your agenda?" Obi-Wan was shaking, the last dregs of exhaustion and pain clear in his face and the sorrow in his eyes.

"Do you think they would have chosen otherwise?" Sle'fey stood up, one paw reaching out but Obi-Wan only flinched back. "Look past your loss, Kenobi. Do you think those who have sacrificed everything, your padawan or Master Zacor or the hundreds of others who have died in duty in the last ten years, would have chosen instead to hide in the shadows while Sidious destroyed the Republic? Would you have chosen that path?"

"No." Obi-Wan looked away, down at his fists, the muscles pulled tight, sinew and bone sharp against his skin. "I knew he had to be stopped. And I chose to help you do it."

The Bothan let out a long, slow breath, said more gently, "We don't always have the luxury of fair play. Or knowing if goodness will triumph over evil. We can only fight on the side of light and hope, in the end, that we have done the right thing."

Obi-Wan was about to say something else when from beyond the cell, Leabe came into view, pain meds in hand, already grumbling at the guards. "Vice Chairman Amedda has agreed, that as per regulation protocols for all Republic prisoners, I will be allowed to treat my patients."

The guard captain merely sniffed at him, took the chip detailing the permissions and waved the man inside. "You have five minutes." That Leabe would be under constant surveillance went without saying.

Another glare and the healer was already at Qui-Gon's side, injecting pain meds into his skin. The relief was almost instantaneous, a wash of cool comfort pushing through his body. He could breathe easier, too, no sharp hitch as he tried to pull in more air. And almost as quickly, Obi-Wan's face slackened when Leabe stepped away from him, spent injector in hand.

As Leabe turned to Sle'fey, Qui-Gon could hear the exasperation in his voice. "You may not be able to wiggle out of this one, Trest." He began to look over the Bothan, checking his wounds, making more of the superficial burns than was completely necessary. An easy way to get close to Sle'fey.

"I'm not expecting to. They may be able to prove it false but we must be prepared for the worst." All the while, Sle'fey was touching his muzzle, his tufted ear, one curled paw using the Jedi's coded language to ask about the Temple.

"I'm sorry." Leabe patted the Bothan's shoulder, fingers lightly tapping the all-secure sign, that he'd gotten the message through to the Jedi and they were locked down tight. "We knew this day might come."

There was just a hint of relief as Sle'fey leaned back. "I know. But it's not over yet. I still hope that some of the Senators may see reason." His paws were busy asking for news.

Leabe just shook his head, signaling that he had none. "That lot? I was surprised you weren't mobbed in the hall or assassinated on the way to the cells. Emotions were running high."

"Luckily Senator Mothma argued for postponement and won. I'm not sure what would have happened had she not." Sle'fey said, his eyes flicking toward Qui-Gon's. "Senator Amidala's move to bring the matter before the full Senate was unexpected."

"I'm not sure she's all that fond of the Jedi at the moment." Frowning his concern, Leabe looked out into the corridor beyond. Qui-Gon could see several sets of eyes watching them, a cluster of troops waiting just beyond. "Her people are everywhere, aligned with the Republic's forces. I had to go through more than a few levels of her and Organa's security just to get here. There have been rumors that they are also placed in the healing facility set up for the wounded victims of Sidious's attack and at the forensic labs." He leaned in, said more softly, "Most worrisome." But his hand was gesturing that it wasn't Amidala he was worried about.

Even Qui-Gon knew what it meant. Padmé was protecting them, protecting those who could testify tomorrow, protecting the scientists who might be able prove the holovid wrong.

Something was going on and it might turn in their favor after all.

But before Leabe could say anything else, the guard in charge growled out, "Time's up, Jedi."

"That wasn't…" But there was no argument to be made. Glaring at the man, Leabe shrugged and started toward the cell door. "I'll be in the Senate chambers tomorrow with more pain meds if you need them." A short bow, a soft "May the Force be with you," and with another sharp look toward the security guard, Leabe was gone.

Sle'fey stood there a moment, watching Leabe walk away. Silent, thoughtful, it would appear that the Bothan Master had much on his mind. They all did.

Qui-Gon had pushed the worry for his family into the dark recesses of his mind but now with a night ahead of him, there was nothing to do but think of regret. A Jedi should put such things behind them, deal with the pain and move on but he'd never been a good Jedi, never really learned to let go of attachment. He'd wallowed in half-mad grief when Tahl had died, had mourned the decade-long loss of Obi-Wan's presence at his side and now it would seem that he needed to learn again how to deal with the growing dread that love could bring and the knowledge that he could do nothing about it.

Leaning back on the cot, Qui-Gon closed his eyes and tried to let go. The hope of meditation was a siren's song, just out of reach, frustrating him and it only made him more aware of his surroundings. He could hear Sle'fey sitting down on the far cot, trying to find his center, the Bothan's breathing exercises clear in the quiet air.

So too, he felt rather than watched Obi-Wan settling in beside him: a jangle of shaking limbs, a tremor as if raw grief was shivering into his skin. He had thought to let his old padawan come to terms with whatever had happened to him in his own time, that the man might want to regain some semblance of control before talking with Qui-Gon about the past few days; Obi-Wan was a knight, had been for ten years and with that experience should come a steady hand and disciplined heart.

But Force or not, he could feel Obi-Wan's sorrow and if he needed Qui-Gon's guidance to regain his balance, then he'd do whatever was necessary to help him. He could do no less.

"Padawan…," He started to reassure Obi-Wan but the man just shook his head.

"I should be better than this." A half-whisper, jarring grief that stumbled back into silence.

Much as Qui-Gon wanted to reassure Obi-Wan, he knew there was more that the man wanted to say. So he kept quiet, watching as his once-apprentice straightened, pulling out of that bruised curl that his body had fallen into, lifting his chin as if drawing courage to face his failures no matter the cost.

Louder now, Obi-Wan repeated, "I should be better than this. I should be… a Jedi would be able to let go of this… this anger." He looked away, into the darkness beyond the cell. "A Jedi is all I've ever wanted to be, a knight following the Force, helping those who could not help themselves, balanced and serene. And look at me." Turning back, he faced Qui-Gon squarely. "Look at me."

"I am." Qui-Gon could see beyond the obvious, beyond the pain flaring in grey-green eyes to what was really troubling Obi-Wan, the deepest fear in his heart. "I _am_ looking at you and what I see is a man who is questioning everything he thought he knew." He paused, then said clearly and with absolute certainty, "Not someone who is about to Turn."

A flare of relief quickly dashed and even though Obi-Wan was shaking his head as if he could not accept such faith, the frown cutting across his face slowly disappeared. Instead he only looked bewildered.

"Obi-Wan, with all that we've been through in the last few days, a lesser man might have given into his anger or to the despair that comes from loss. And yet you did not." He put one hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder and shook it a bit. "Feeling it is one thing. Letting it control you is something entirely different."

Qui-Gon leaned back, a cough pressing at him but he ignored it. "Recognize it for what it is, Obi-Wan. Accept it and let it go and you will find the balance you seek."

For a moment, he thought back to that young boy, fighting for a place at his side: green-eyed and willful and stubborn as a bantha. How the child had helped him back into sanity after Tahl had died and here was the man needing the same thing. Still obstinate, still willful and yet he knew they could help each other to get past what had happened if he'd just let Qui-Gon in.

A flash of Le'orath's beloved face and Qui-Gon swallowed, accepted the grief pushing against his chest. He and Obi-Wan were two of a kind after all. Both battling emotions that threw everything out of balance. Now was the time to regain that balance.

"Meditate with me, Padawan." A swift shake of his head but Qui-Gon would not let it go. "Help me to find my way again. Let me help you, too."

There was a moment of waiting, Obi-Wan looking down at his hands, the tremble in them still clear. Then, he opened them deliberately and pressed them flat against his thighs. "You were always a challenge, Master, pushing me, prodding me, at times giving me orders that made no sense and yet…." His mouth quirked and there was a long sigh. "I know what you are trying to do."

"There is no try, Padawan," Qui-Gon reminded him gently.

"No, I suppose there isn't." Obi-Wan settled back, closing his eyes and taking the first breath towards centering himself.

Qui-Gon followed him, closing his own eyes and reaching for his calm center. "Let us begin then." And he settled back – and tried not to think about what tomorrow would bring.

* * *

Deep in the night, something woke him, a clatter, the sound of gathering footsteps, urgent and yet stopping just outside the cell door. Out of reach. When he looked up, he could see a dozen sets of eyes looking back and more behind them watching the watchers. There was no movement, just beings waiting for something and after a while, with no obvious danger looming over them, Qui-Gon deliberately settled back into sleep.

* * *

Qui-Gon had once been to Geonosis, a hive world known for its manufacturing capacity and hyperspace location, significant to the Republic''s well-being. But he remembered it, not for its importance in trade, but for the blood-lust which seemed to permeate to the very core of that planet. For sport, as he'd watched horrified and helpless, they'd chained up criminals and political foes in a dusty arena and then had them torn to pieces by wild beasts.

The sounds still haunted him: cheering as each unfortunate screamed out in its agony, the buzz of excitement, the air filled with shrieks and desecration and thunderous applause. So much death, so much hatred, so much foul relish in the pain of others.

Here, it was the same all over again. The Senate felt the same, sounded the same. The same low buzz of anticipation, the same blood-lust permeating the hall, eye-stalks and tentacles and artificial sensors all focused directly at them, waiting for judgment, waiting for their fate to be decided.

They were trapped and helpless, and their enemies were triumphant and everyone knew it.

But Qui-Gon could not let the despair overwhelm him, not now. He tried to clear his mind of doubt, difficult as that was and focus on what was going on around him.

Force pikes at the ready, the cohort of Republic and Naboo guards had led them into the small holding area clearly designed for criminals: holocams, harsh lights and a circle of security forces alert to their every move. Beyond the brightness, he could see the whole of the Senate, tier upon tier, rising high above them.

There was something odd about the situation, though, something very odd. There were far too many guards surrounding them, even considering that they were holding Force users captive. Too many guards and not all Republic ones. It was almost as if some of them, particularly those of the Naboo, were there to watch the other security forces and not the three of them.

But he had no one to ask what it all meant and so all he could do was exchange a confused look with Obi-Wan and ignore the concern or was that the glimmerings of hope beating at his chest.

And then suddenly there was no more time to wonder at the situation. Vice Chairman Mas Amedda's voice boomed through the Grand Convocation Chamber, the dome filled with Senators and their hangers-on.

"Senators, citizens of the Republic, beings of the galaxy, I am here to speak to you of a tragedy that has befallen us all. The _murder_ of our beloved leader, Supreme Chancellor Palpatine. A true hero, a gentle man whose only transgression had been the tireless effort he put forth in keeping this great Republic from falling into the hands of Jedi insurgents. A champion of the people, a savior who had made it his life's work to bring about a better life for us all."

There was a roar echoing down into the pit, eager voices thirsting for retribution. Amedda let the sound wash over him. Even from a distance, Qui-Gon could see the Chagrian standing taller, his arms wide as he played the crowd. His aide, Sly Moore, was beside him, smiling satisfaction, rapidly whispering to Amedda as he stood there.

"A man who was cut down so cruelly by assassins seeking vengeance. By criminals bent on destroying our Republic, our very way of life."

Another roar, edgy, revenge-filled as the Vice Chairman pointed down toward them. Qui-Gon could see his own face splashed across smaller holovid screens scattered among the Senators' repulsorpods, transmission-hazed and then those of Sle'fey and a pale Obi-Wan. But those images morphed back into Amedda's blue-tinged snarl.

"There will be some who refute my words, will try and confuse the truth, hide under lies and procedure and committees. But today we will show you the evidence in all its horror and you will decide their fates. I know, I have no doubt in your choices when it is done. I know that you will stand with me and ask for the ultimate price – death to these criminals."

Amedda flung one hand down toward the pit again, a grand gesture designed to stir the unthinking mob, to drive them into frenzy.

"To Trest Sle'fey, so-called Master among the Jedi rebels who has been a traitor to his own kind and worked tirelessly to bring down the Republic, to Obi-Wan Kenobi, false Knight and killer of innocents, to Qui-Gon Jinn, former Master, Jedi outcast and revolutionary, slave-trader, one who had left a trail of dead behind him before returning to the Jedi and helping to murder our beloved leader."

His eyes flashing fire and ferocity, Amedda looked as if he were drinking in all the roars of the crowd, basking in triumph.

"And to this list I want to add…," The Vice Chairman's voice dropped, lingered, letting the anticipation for what he was about to say grow and grow. When Qui-Gon thought the crowds would shout their frustration into frenzy, Amedda cried out, "The Jedi Order itself without whom these criminals would not have had the opportunity or the will to destroy. A band of rogues bent on taking over the Republic and turning it into an Empire of their making, our citizens ruled by Force users who think of us as mere insects to be crushed under their feet."

The sound in the chamber was unbelievable. Qui-Gon could see Sle'fey mouthing something but he could not hear it above the roar of the mob.

"When this holovid is done, my fellow Senators, you will see the truth for yourselves and you will truly understand just what is at stake. Our very lives and the lives of those who look to us for protection hang in the balance. Watch and learn the truth and when it's done, I want a verdict of … guilty."

A final grand gesture, signaling the beginning of the holovid that would condemn them all.

For a long, breathless moment, an avalanche of sound washed down over the hall. The grainy transmission began to form, huge and blue-tinged and frantic, and flinching back, Qui-Gon closed his eyes, unable to watch. He knew what they'd all see, the lies so brilliantly orchestrated. It was almost certain that he and Sle'fey and Obi-Wan would pay the price, might even be torn to pieces in a final frenzied blood-bath.

He took a deep breath, trying to find his center to prepare for what was to come, trying to shut out the sounds of noisy blood-lust, the screams for vengeance.

But something strange happened.

Instead of rising fury, Senators and lackeys and countless others went from shouting for swift justice to startled confusion and then into silence. As the transmission played on, the sound oddly muffled, Obi-Wan whispered, "That's not…."

Frowning, Qui-Gon looked up, drew back in a choked gasp. Obi-Wan was right. The holovid wasn't what had been shown to the Senators yesterday. It was completely different and from the looks of it, rough and odd-angled as it was, unchanged from what had happened that day. The truth in a blue-hazed transmission.

Questions began to whirl in his head. How? Why? What happened to the holovid Amedda had shown to the committee?

From his vantage point, he could see that the vid had been recorded from a perspective close to the floor; it was jittery, too, as if whoever or whatever had recorded it was rolling over obstacles of some kind. But although the vid was not of good quality, sometimes hazing out, the angle was enough that the viewer could see almost everything.

In the transmission, Qui-Gon could see Palpatine growing more agitated, playing with his audience. The Jedi had just accused him of being a Sith. Soon the room would break into pandemonium and as the Jedi ignited their weapons to arrest him, Palpatine, Sidious, would reach down, pour lightning into the room and destroy so many of those innocent and not-so-innocent lives. Soon, all hell would break loose and the holovid would show Sidious for his true nature.

And it was obvious that Amedda didn't want anyone to see beyond the Jedi's actions in the holovid, wanted to turn this into condemnation and vengeance and death.

The Vice Chairman sputtered out his fury. "What trickery is this? This is not the right one. Stop this abomination at once."

He was gesturing toward his aide who was pulling furiously at some of the controls – which didn't appear to be working. Theoretically, the Vice Chairman could shut down the sound and vid systems, allowing him to prevent shouting matches from disrupting the flow of the Senate. However, it was increasingly clear that someone had sabotaged it in such a way that he could not. Someone had taken control of the output and was refusing to allow it to be silenced.

The Senate was already recovering, the noise of argument swelling but unexpectedly, the holovid did not fizzle out. Instead, it remained a blue-tinged accusation, motion and sound still obvious.

"Shut that off!" Amedda was already purple with rage, gesturing wildly.

There was a distant clatter of troops but it played on and Amedda only grew more frantic.

In that moment, Padmé rose up, said coolly, "The Senate needs to see this, Vice Chairman. Or are you afraid of what it might show?"

"You!" If looks could kill, Padmé would already be ash and bone. But instead she merely lifted her head, daring him to dismiss her. It drove Amedda deeper into rage. "Of course, you and your Jedi friends. You would do anything for them. Anything at all."

"It will not hurt anyone to see this holovid, Vice Chairman." Mon Mothma's calm voice echoed in the space. "Unless you think it will be so overwhelming a condemnation of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine and your own agenda that you cannot allow it to be seen."

She made it sound as if Amedda were in a conspiracy, that he wouldn't, couldn't let it pass. Qui-Gon expected Mothma to condemn him further but instead she only said, reasonably, coolly, "When this holovid is complete, we will see the one you presented to the committee yesterday. As is right and just." She paused, everyone's attention on her. "Then perhaps this body will make a balanced judgment based on all the information. I'm sure you support that, do you not, Vice Chairman?"

Qui-Gon could almost feel the movement of eyestalks and heads and recording devices turning toward Amedda. Behind the tall horns of the Chagrian, Sidious loomed large, the vid fading a bit and then sharpening as the Jedi raised their sabers. Palpatine was smiling as he shouted his accusations, self-satisfied and satiated; he certainly did not look like a man who feared for his life. As the lightning exploded across the Chancellor's office, the holovid went blank, whatever sensors had been used by the recording devices overwhelmed by the energy fields.

Amedda seized the opportunity. "This is an outrage. Clearly the work of amateurs trying to make us believe that something so absurdly bad would have even a grain of truth in it."

Winking back on, lines wavering in the light, Sidious was laughing. The holovid showed bodies strewn like trash, screams of the dying a painful reminder of what the Sith had been doing while it was being recorded and over it all the insane sound of pleasure as his red saber cut through skin and bone.

Qui-Gon could hear gasps now in the chamber, and sounds of rising horror as the Senators watched everything play out. There was no more protest from Amedda or his cronies, Divinian and Sly Moore silent, furious but impotent to stop it.

It didn't take long. As the blue-tinged vid finally sputtered out, showing Padmé and her troops entering the Chancellor's office, there was stunned silence.

But Amedda was already blustering. "A poor attempt at misrepresenting our beloved Supreme Chancellor. To even raise the possibility that he was a Sith. This is absurd."

"This holovid was discovered in one of the cleaning droids sensor sweeps. That particular design used vid technology to keep track of what had been cleaned and needed to be cleaned so that the unit would always work at peak efficiency – something you suggested last year as I remember, Vice Chairman." Mothma said, shrugging her shoulders. "To reduce wasteful spending, you said. And one of your associates got the contract, too. Rather ironic as it appears."

"Video from a cleaning droid?" Amedda sputtered, "You show us this trash and expect us to believe it."

"I expect the Senators to base their decisions on all the information at hand, not just what you would feed us." Mothma glanced over at Padmé, then, cold as ice, frowned back to Amedda. She looked as if she were ready to take on the entire Senate if necessary to see justice done. "Unfortunately, all the other recordings were erased, well, except for your version of what happened in Supreme Chancellor Palpatine's office that day."

"It is not my version, Senator. It is the truth." Amedda seemed to puff up at that, look almost smug.

"So you say." Senator Mon Mothma gestured toward the holovid control tower. "If you would signal them to begin, we can finish this business that much sooner."

His eyes full of calculation, he said, "In my own time, Senator. You are not in charge here."

The older woman shrugged it off, seemed to find the pretentiousness instructive. "A crisis of this magnitude requires many eyes and many hands to find what would otherwise be hidden. I'm sure you would agree, Vice Chairman."

"Of course, Senator Mothma. But you would do well to remember that curiosity can destroy as well as reveal." His smile turned sharp.

In the little exchange, Qui-Gon was reminded of predators vying for the last piece of meat in a dying world, focused and deadly. He was just glad that one of them appeared to be on their side. For now.

"Of course, I understand perfectly." Mothma tilted her head, acknowledging the threat. "Shall we see the other holovid then? A second viewing could prove most instructive."

With another sharp glance, looking as if he wasn't sure of her meaning, Amedda gestured toward the control tower, signaling the start of the second holovid.

Silence grew on the Senate floor as the blue-tinged images began again. And this time, it was the one Amedda wanted.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and waited for it to be over.


	78. Chapter 41: Finding their way part 3

**Chapter 41 – Finding their way **

**Part 3**

**

* * *

**

This time, the Senate was eerily silent as the holovid played out. Qui-Gon could hear every death-rattle, every scream, every sweep of a lightsaber through skin and bone and blood. Obi-Wan must have been watching; when Atel's death echoed in the chamber, Qui-Gon could hear him choking back pain, the rough attempts to regain his calm.

At that, Qui-Gon reached out and laid one hand on Obi-Wan's arm to remind him that he was not alone. Wordless comfort.

It must have worked. Obi-Wan's breathing slowed and he stopped shaking. They sat there quietly and watched the storm gathering in the Senate chamber.

When the holovid ended, sound filled the room: screams of protest, calls for executions, questions about which vid was the truth, furious accusations of corruption. It was a cacophony of noise so loud that it was impossible to pick out individual voices.

Amedda was at the eye of the storm, blue skin and pale horns gleaming in the light. He was calling for silence but no one was paying attention. Every being in the chamber seemed to be gesturing wildly, striving to be the first to speak.

Looking toward the Naboo delegation, Qui-Gon could see Padmé talking with Bail Organa, their heads close together. Barely discernable at that distance, from what little he could glean, it would seem that she was satisfied with the procedures. She kept nodding, looking in his direction and then turning back to Organa.

Mon Mothma, standing among her Chandrilan delegation, also looked smug, as if she were calmly waiting for the noise to die down.

It took a while but at last, she was finally able to speak. "Vice Chairman, we have now seen two versions of the same shocking event surrounding Palpatine's death. In one, the Jedi are blameless, doing their duty in bringing down a tyrant; in the other, they are ruthless murderers of a beloved leader." There was a roar of fury among the Senators but it slowly quieted as she said, "But we cannot rely on holovids alone. Evidence comes in many forms."

Amedda scowled at that, starting to interrupt but Mothma was faster. "However, there was more shocking news last evening. As those on the investigation committee already know, we incarcerated those who were accused of killing the Supreme Chancellor: Master Sle'fey, Knight Kenobi and former Master Jinn. Based solely on the holovid we viewed yesterday, we thought it best to do so until the matter could be brought before the entire Senate."

Divinian shouted out, "They are murderers and those who defend them are traitors to the Republic. Death to the lot of them."

Padmé looked uneasy but not as much as Qui-Gon thought she might. She and Organa were deep in discussion as Mothma said calmly, "Yes, thank you, Senator, for that reasoned approach. That would seem the best solution for all concerned - except for those who want the truth."

"But that is the truth!" roared Divinian.

Mothma ignored him. "A key to all this and something that differs between the two versions is whether Master Trest Sle'fey handled the red lightsaber. In one, he never touched it. In the other, he planted evidence of Sith involvement into Supreme Chancellor Palpatine's hand."

She nodded regally toward a man high up in the galleries. Qui-Gon didn't recognize him but there were billions on the planet. The odds of him knowing him were infinitesimally small.

The man's worn face grew large as holocams focused in, broadcasted it onto the transmitter pad. Flinching as he moved, clearly in pain, he bowed toward Senator Mothma.

"This is ThiZon Pol. He's in charge of the Republic's main forensics lab. He examined the lightsaber in question two days ago when the suspects were first arrested," Mothma said.

Amedda's face flushed an ugly purple. "I object! He is not a witness. You go too far, Senator."

Turning toward him, she stared up at Amedda for just a moment, long enough for his discomfort to grow, long enough for him to realize just what she thought of him and his objections.

Her voice was as cold and clear as the space between stars. "Vice Chairman, I do not go far enough. Doctor Pol is the foremost forensics specialist on the planet. He should have been called to testify at the committee hearing yesterday. And yet he was not. I have to wonder why."

"It wasn't necessary. We had all the evidence we needed to make a judgment." Amedda's voice thundered, echoing in the Senate chamber.

"Apparently someone didn't agree with you. Doctor Pol's lab was broken into last night and destroyed." She sent Amedda another scathing look, then turned back, gestured up toward Pol. "Luckily, his findings were already complete and posted at multiple locations, including the Judiciary department in charge of this case. Doctor, would you please tell the Senate your conclusions?"

But before he could say anything, Divinian shouted, "This is outrageous. It's not proper procedure. You have no right to do this."

It was apparently too much even for the even-tempered Organa. "This goes beyond procedure, Senator Divinian. This is something more than investigation. Let him speak."

Several other Senators, mostly from the moderates in the Senate, echoed Organa's demand.

Amedda, still purple-blue with anger, was gesturing wildly, loudly insisting that the investigation was at an end but Mothma ignored him, and signaled for the doctor to continue.

A glance toward the irate Vice Chairman, Doctor Pol straightened, said clearly, "Senators, my findings are conclusive. The Judiciary attaché in charge of murder investigations supplied Trest Sle'fey's genetic material for comparison with that found on the lightsaber. It was not necessary, however. There was only one genetic marker on the weapon, that of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine. Master Sle'fey never touched it."

Divinian exploded in fury. "You lie. You're in it with them."

"My laboratory was sabotaged, Senator, and I and some of my people injured. So I do not like your insinuation." Pol was brave, Qui-Gon had to give him that, and he seemed willing to defy the Senate or at least certain Senators in order to bring justice to the hearings. "Luckily we had decided to move the evidence to a safer location once we discovered the truth. It was untouched in the attempt. We will be able to let other forensics labs look at it once it is deemed safe to examine."

"Has your report been issued, Doctor Pol?" Organa asked.

Pol nodded, looking hard at Amedda and the woman next to him, Sly Moore. "My report was sent early yesterday morning to the Judiciary as well as to Vice Chairman Amedda's aide, Sly Moore, as per protocol in cases like this. Of course, I am at your disposal to answer any questions you might have on the procedure or our conclusions."

"This is preposterous. Your conclusions are absurd. I move that we strike this _person's_ lies from the record." His face growing red, Divinian was still shouting accusations but no one was paying attention beyond a few feeble jeers.

"Thank you, Doctor Pol. I have reviewed your report as of this morning and found it very informative. It is being forwarded on to the rest of the Senate as we speak." Mon Mothma said calmly, "We will let you know if further testing is required."

"You do not speak for this assembly," Amedda snarled.

"No, and neither do you, Vice Chairman, not entirely. I would like to know why this evidence was not introduced yesterday to our committee. We are investigating this after all. Was it ignored… or suppressed?"

"I will not stand for this kind of accusation. My reputation is beyond reproach."

"Senator Mothma had raised serious and troubling questions that need to be addressed, Vice Chairman. Refusing to answer will not erase those concerns." Rising up, Padmé stared thoughtfully at him, her hands lifting in slow acceptance. Beside her, Organa was nodding. "But perhaps it was merely an oversight. After all, you are busy enough with the affairs of state."

The Vice Chairman looked as if he didn't believe her. "Senator, I see that you can be practical about this. I am sure we can come to some kind of agreement on this issue." A quick whisper toward his aide, and he smiled, confident. "I suggest that the committee reconvene to go over these in depth and we bring our final conclusions to the Senate for discussion then."

"That sounds very reasonable." Padmé gave a slow nod, all grace and nobility. "So very reasonable. Unfortunately, there are more than just two holovids and a forensics report to consider."

Before Amedda or his allies could object further, glancing toward Qui-Gon, worry in her voice, she said, "Late last night, there were assassination attempts on the prisoners as well as on the survivors of the events in the Supreme Chancellor's office. Luckily, my security forces, with the eventual help of Republic guards, were able to thwart them. In both cases, unfortunately, the perpetrators were able to escape but we have holovids of their actions and they will soon be caught."

Contemptuous, voice ragged and furious, Divinian shouted out, "This is insanity. You are making this up. You have no proof of any of this."

"Are you so certain, Senator? I have the holovids." Turning toward him, Padmé stared at the man, long and hard. "I find it striking that there were attempts on witnesses and those accused of Palpatine's murder so soon after this inquiry began."

She leaned forward, gestured toward Qui-Gon and his fellow prisoners. "It is horrifying enough that such attempts were made. But luckily for the victims and this assembly it was sloppily done. Done in haste and thereby traceable. Very traceable."

"You are lying." Divinian looked positively furious and yet he seemed apprehensive as well, as though he were trying to hide from something and failing miserably. It was possible that he might know something of this newest revelation, perhaps even instigating it himself or following the orders of others.

Qui-Gon wouldn't put anything past the Nuralee Senator. Divinian had tried for years to destroy the Jedi Order and arranging the murders of Jedi and those who would help them was not beyond his twisted capabilities.

The Vice Chairman was standing there, gaping like a colo-claw fish from Naboo's seas. Whether he knew about the assassination attempts or not, it would seem that he wasn't above turning on his allies in an instant if he thought it would keep him in power. Amedda thundered out, "What do you know of this, Divinian?"

"Nothing!" he snarled. "It is obvious that Amidala is lying for her own political gain. She's trying to use any means possible to stop this body from condemning Jinn and his co-conspirators. They deserve death for what they've done and she knows it." He turned toward Padmé, pointed a finger at her. "You would use your influence to help the Republic's enemies. Have you no shame?"

"That is enough." Organa interrupted his tirade. "Someone is trying to subvert the truth here but it is not Senator Amidala."

Amedda spoke up. "Senators, this is unacceptable. Until this allegation of wrong-doing and attempted assassinations can be proved, they are not admissible as evidence at this time nor are they relevant to this case. As well you know, Senator Amidala. Now since my honored colleagues have not accepted my suggestion of sending this back to committee, I move that we finish up this over-long deliberation and come to the only conclusion possible. A guilty verdict! All those in favor…."

"I object." Mothma protested, "There are too many questions yet to be answered."

"I agree. Too many questions but…." Bail bowed slightly, a nod of his head. "I do have some answers, Vice Chairman. Something relevant to this case."

"More lies, Organa? You and _Padmé_ are certainly full of them today," Divinian spat out.

Bail ignored the accusation, turned toward Amedda. "I talked with those who survived the massacre in the Chancellor's office, and reluctantly they agreed to testify once they were well enough to do so." He glanced down toward them: Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and Sle'fey. There was a message there but Qui-Gon couldn't read it, not from so far away and the man shrugged and turned back to the Senate. "Reluctantly, because they are all well-known for their contempt of the Jedi Order and especially of former Master Jinn."

Divinian was beside himself with fury. Red-faced, arms gesturing wildly, it looked almost as if he were going mad. Qui-Gon had never seen him so out of control. "This is too much. A politician's maneuvers to push forth your own agenda. Do not think I do not know what you are planning, Organa, you and Amidala. You think you are so clever when you have no idea of what you are dealing with. The Jedi Order has blinded you to reality, sitting in their high towers like sept-spiders, sucking out the very life-blood of our Republic."

Even Organa seemed taken aback. But he maintained his calm, staring at Divinian with something like pity. "Our agenda is the well-being of the people of this Republic. When the head of it seeks to gain power with the death of innocents, when his cohorts threaten the peace of this great alliance, it is time for change."

"And _you_ think you would bring change." The contempt in Amedda's voice was bitingly cold.

"I am only seeking the truth." Bail sent him a frosted look and then said, "Senator Wallen was among those who survived. He is willing to testify that Palpatine attacked several beings including Wallen with a red lightsaber, just as the first holovid showed." He looked down, and then pressing something, a figure, blue-hazed, floated above Organa's head. The man was lying on a bed, bandaged and fragile, obviously quite ill. "I have him on holocam. He's well enough for a short statement."

Divinian shouted out, "This is absurd."

"You have overstepped your bounds, Organa. I will not allow it." Amedda's face purpled further. Qui-Gon had never seen him so off-balance, so ready to jump down and murder someone. Even his horns were shaking, a clear sign that he was losing what little control he had left.

Bail straightened, his hand waving toward the transmission. "Are you so afraid of what he might say? Or is it that you hope he will fall victim to another murder attempt? Delay would only give an assassin more time."

The hazy figure seemed to pale at that and sunk back further into his bed. Beyond, Qui-Gon could see Healers hovering near the patient and there were guards there, Republic and Naboo and a few Alderaanians, too. It would appear that Organa wasn't taking any chances with the witness.

"You could have coerced him into siding with you." Amedda frowned, his eyes shifting back and forth as if he were trying to turn this into his advantage. "I will not allow it."

"You have no choice, Vice Chairman. When you opened this inquiry, all data, for or against, must be admitted as evidence."

Amedda was beside himself with anger, already shouting about protocols and inadmissibility but Bail cut him off. "Senator Wallen, you have watched the two holovids. Both were submitted as evidence of the events of the day Supreme Chancellor Palpatine died. They are very different. Which one is correct?"

In the great Senate chamber, there had been a background of quarrels and whispers the entire time Amedda and Organa had been arguing; the noise quieted as shaky, hoarse, Wallen said, "Jinn should be executed for what… he's done."

A triumphant cry from Divinian. "I knew it."

"He deserves… to… he ruined me! I hope… he chokes… on his own blood." The injured man lay back, panting with effort.

"Senator, that's not what I asked." Bail seemed taken aback but apparently he wasn't about to let this go. "You told me earlier what happened. Are you going to lie about it to the Senate? And before you answer, remember we have your sworn statement on holodisk."

"Jinn, a… monster." The man was still raving. "I won't… help him get out… of this, no matter what Palpa…."

"Palpatine?" Organa said softly.

"Should have… gutted Jinn while he had the… chance. I… don't care if… he's a Sith. Should… have killed Jinn. Would… have helped…."

Organa pressed the point. "Senator? Was Palpatine a Sith?"

Wheezing, looking pale as death, Wallen said, "Palpatine attacked… me. I would have… have helped kill… why did he?"

As the man fell back onto the pillows, clearly at the end of his strength, Ammeda was already roaring about lies and coercion of witnesses.

"Senators, it would appear that the holovid Mas Amedda showed us in the Interrogation Hall was a clever forgery." Bail was speaking calmly while behind him, in the transmission, the Healers were rushing forward, checking on Wallen's vitals. The man seemed weak but alive. Hopefully, he would live to see justice done.

Organa switched off the holocam, turned back to Amedda's purple rage. "In addition, the Vice Chairman's delaying tactics and unwillingness to listen to Senator Wallen's testimony only indicate that there is something more going on."

"Wallen's testimony is worthless." Qui-Gon could see how shaken Amedda was, arms raised, fists pummeling the air. "And how dare you insinuate such things. I will not answer your accusations. It is beyond anything I will tolerate before this assembly!"

"Vice Chairman Mas Amedda, you should have chosen better." Organa said it simply, not yelling or matching Amedda's fury with his own but with a calm certainty. For a moment, Qui-Gon was puzzled. Did Bail feel he had enough evidence to acquittal or was there something more going on? Even Amedda was obviously confused by the change in tone. But Senator Organa was not finished.

"Baylan's cutting techniques are well known among the criminal artisans of slicer technology. That he has gone underground is a problem but we have one of his associates in custody and he will testify that your office paid handsomely for the holovid you showed us yesterday."

Amedda staggered back. The bluster had gone out of his voice; he looked horrified. His eyes kept darting toward Divinian and back to Organa. "Another baseless lie. You have no proof of any of this."

"There is proof enough for further investigations into your activities, Vice Chairman, yours and that of Senator Bog Divinian." Bail Organa was not known for bluster. When he was in the right, he did not lord over those he opposed. But in this case, a smile touched his face as he said, "There is more than enough to call for a vote of no confidence. Which I so move."

Turning blue-pale, Amedda abruptly sat down as the Senate erupted into chaos.


	79. Chapter 42: At last part 1

Yes, I am still working on it.

* * *

**Chapter 42 – At last **

**Part 1  
**

It was almost unbelievable. In the Senate chamber, there was a churning of sound and movement that Qui-Gon hadn't seen in a decade, not since the last scandal had rocked the Republic when Finis Valorum had left.

High above, Amedda was still howling out his protests, something about lies and revenge and Jedi influence and then there was another roar from the crowd. Blood-lust in a mob's hunger for revenge

Divinian had already given up objecting to the accusations. Instead, Qui-Gon could see him trying to claw his way out of his hoverpod and escape, but Republic forces were there to catch him. Kicking and screaming that he was a Senator of the Republic, claiming that he was innocent of everything, he struggled with the guards who ignored him and dragged him out of the Senate chamber. It was painful to hear and more so to watch.

Amedda's podium was lowering slowly and below it, Republic security forces were also waiting. Qui-Gon almost felt sorry for the Vice Chairman. He could see the Chagrian, his horns vibrating wildly as Amedda waved his arms about. He looked more demented than calm. In that regard it was very different than Valorum's departure. That man had been devastated but remained a true statesman; Amedda was only a bottom-feeder, an opportunist who had lost the gamble and was now paying the price.

The accused Jedi were almost forgotten in the tumult.

It took a long while but at last, surrounded by guards from Naboo and Alderaan and a smattering of Republic security forces, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Sle'fey were hustled out of the Senate's holding area and onto a waiting shuttle.

He was surprised by it. Qui-Gon had assumed they would be returning to the cells under the Senate but Sle'fey just smiled, shook his head, and said nothing.

The silence lasted all the way to the Jedi Temple.

Before the shuttle doors opened, one of the guards, a Chalactan by the look of him, stood before them. He bowed politely to Sle'fey. "Master Jedi, I am Lieutenant Bodda. Senator Amidala has sent me to oversee your stay while the Senate finishes up its investigation."

Qui-Gon knew that Sle'fey would be unhappy about that. To him, it would mean that that Republic spies would continue to scrutinize the Bothan's every move and might interfere with whatever devious plan he'd orchestrated but Qui-Gon was just relieved. There would be fewer restrictions than in the Senate cell and less potential for assassination, too.

Sle'fey stood up, returning the bow. "Be sure and tell the Senator that I appreciate her diligence. Do you know how long it will be before the investigation is complete?"

Labodda didn't hesitate, looked almost as if he had expected the question. "Unfortunately, it is difficult to say and under the circumstances, I wouldn't be able to tell you that even if I did know."

"Of course." To Qui-Gon's eyes, Sle'fey looked irritated but only said, "Please do not interfere with Jedi affairs, Lieutenant."

"Of course. As long as it does not impinge on the investigation, Master Jedi." Bodda sounded more reasonable than his predecessor. At least, it was a start.

Then surprisingly, he turned to Qui-Gon. "Master Jinn, I have been informed that while you cannot leave Coruscant until the investigation is complete, as before you will have access to Naboo transmission feeds and will be able to contact your family. I or one of my guards will have to be present but we will not interfere in any discussions. I hope that is satisfactory?"

It was better than he'd hoped. He'd be able to talk with Ben and Le'orath, especially her, his so very badly damaged wife. His voice husky, he said, "Thank you. I would like to talk with her now if I may."

The man bowed. "Of course, Master Jinn." Then he opened the doors to the shuttle and let them file past.

Of course, at the bottom of the ramp was Leabe. The Healer was persistent, and in Qui-Gon's opinion, overly protective but he had little control over what the man could say or do when it came to health issues. He shot forward and dropped meds neatly into Qui-Gon's hand. "To be taken twice a day without fail. I've been told that you have been assigned quarters. I will attend you there sometime this afternoon." His gaze flicked toward Obi-Wan for a moment. "We will discuss therapy options then."

There was an undercurrent of worry in Leabe's voice but it would appear not for Qui-Gon. Before he could reply, the Healer had turned away, was already talking to Obi-Wan. "There are options for you as well, Knight Kenobi. I have several treatments that I believe you will benefit from. Since you will be returning to your quarters now, I will accompany you there to discuss your choices. I'm sure Master Jinn won't mind waiting."

Obi-Wan flashed an anxious frown toward Qui-Gon, then nodded, started to walk away.

It would appear that Leabe was still concerned about Obi-Wan's state of mind. His body was healing slowly and most therapies would take time but the Healer had seen his reactions over the past few days. Obviously he thought Obi-Wan might still turn and they were isolating him in case he did.

Knowing that Obi-Wan would shut out Leabe's incessant prodding as he limped back to his quarters, Qui-Gon could only think of how he must be feeling: the debris of his life, the remnants of meals, Atel's scattered datapads or tunics shoved into a corner waiting for their return, the empty hollowness of it. Obi-Wan would have to deal with all of that as well as the collapse of his own dreams. No wonder Leabe was worried.

"Obi-Wan?" So much said in a single word, offering comfort and more if the man needed him there.

But Obi-Wan just shook his head. "She needs to talk to you, Qui-Gon. You can join me later once Healer Leabe is finished with you."

"Very well. I will see you later, then." And he watched with trepidation as Obi-Wan, Leabe and one of the Republic guards walked away.

Sle'fey had been silent but now nodded to him. "I will take my leave as well. Keep me apprised of events on Naboo. We will have much to discuss, you and I, once this is finished."

"Yes, I believe we do." But he said nothing else, just turned away, dismissing Sle'fey from his thoughts. His family was waiting.

* * *

It was evening on Naboo, a quiet time for most, a time to enjoy the setting sun and listen to the evening birds singing their farewells into the night. A sweet time and one he and Le'orath often enjoyed in their years together.

Now, that might turn into dust. His wife was likely to refuse to talk with him, stubborn as she was, blaming him for the events there. And in a way, she was right. He'd told her that his past life had been perilous, that those around him had been in danger because of him but she dismissed it. She thought that love would conquer all and it had until the Sith came back into their lives.

Now, all he could do was try and put the pieces of their lives back together and hope they would be stronger for it.

Shmi answered the transmission. She seemed pleased to see him but then worry lines appeared. "Are you coming home?"

Shaking his head, Qui-Gon said, "Not yet. The investigation into Palpatine's death is still ongoing but there have been some new developments." He didn't say more than that. Lieutenant Bodda had made very clear that certain events weren't to be discussed until further notice. He could even understand it but although he would have protested in younger days, pointed out that it was likely all over the holonet already, he didn't bother. He had more important things to think about. "I believe I shall be free to return home soon. How is Le'orath?"

"As well as can be expected. She's in a lot of pain and the loss of the child… her grief is silent. She's hasn't cried since she first woke, just stares out the window when she's conscious. Ben saw her once but it was too upsetting for her so we haven't been back since. He's been asking for you."

There had been so much loss. If he could, he'd have flown through the transmission and found his wife and child and never left them again. But he was still caged and there was nothing he could do. "I would like to see him, too but I also want to know about Anakin. How is he?"

"He grieves in his own way, building walls, smashing the stones with his saber and the Force, sometimes with sheer brute strength, throwing stone on stone when he thinks no one is looking." Shmi looked worried and he had to agree with her. Anakin had always too much impatience and he tended to take everything that didn't go his way as a personal affront. Qui-Gon had been working with him on it, but still it was troubling.

"He blames himself, Qui-Gon. For Master Windu's death and the loss of his arm. Even though his artificial arm works well, he says he's crippled now and useless as a Bendu." She seemed to be accepting of things, but her hands were pulled tight, fisted in the shawl around her shoulders. He would have liked to reassure her but she would see beneath the words. They had both seen too much of the galaxy to speak untruths to each other. "He needs you. We all do."

"Shmi, I miss him, too." He thought a moment, then said, "Have Garen Muln look after Anakin until I get back. He's one of our best pilots. Anakin had been hounding me for flight lessons for months and although Ani will know it's to take his mind off things, a bribe if you will, he'll also want to fly more than to continue grieving. Master Muln will keep him busy."

Her face softened as she said, "He loves to fly and has since he was a small boy. I'll discuss it with Master Muln when he returns."

"Good. And now I'd like to see my son." And taking a deep breath, preparing himself to sooth a grieving child, he waited as Shmi went in search of Ben.

He tried hard not to worry, to put on a good face for talking with his son. The boy had seen murder and his mother mutilated, so much pain and misery. He could not imagine how much Ben would be hurting and he wasn't there to help him through this. Qui-Gon was extremely lucky to have Shmi in the role of care-taker but still his heart ached to be home with his family.

Ben came running in, a toy forgotten in his hand, and trailing behind him, Shmi. "Daddy!" But his face fell almost immediately when he saw that Qui-Gon was only there as a blue-tinged transmission. His mouth was trembling when he said, "You're not here. I thought…."

"Ben, I will be home before you know it."

But the boy was scowling at him. Apparently, placating Ben with mere words would not be enough. "You shouldn't tell a lie. It's not acc.. acceptable."

Qui-Gon wanted to gather his son into his arms and never let go. After all, Ben had learned his lessons well. When he was younger, the boy would often tell an untruth; he thought he could get away with stealing sweets or not doing his chores, preferring to play and deal with the consequences later. Of course, he'd be caught at it, sometimes the delicious evidence melting in his hands and Le'orath would frown and Qui-Gon would have to stifle his amusement at the sight.

Such a warm memory when compared to the moment they were both caught in now.

"Forgive me, Ben. You are right, of course," Qui-Gon said in his most solemn voice, trying hard not to show his grief. "I will not be home for a bit yet. I can't tell you when because I do not know. But I will come home, my son. I promise you that."

Eyes filling with tears, his hands angrily wiping his face, his son shook his head. "I want mommy. She hurts and I can feel her in my head and she won't let me… I want mommy." He twisted around and buried himself in Shmi's warm embrace and began sobbing. "I want my mommy."

There was nothing he could do but watch as Shmi wrapped her arms around his Ben and started rocking him, trying to comfort him.

Grief was thick in his throat and he had never felt so helpless. Shmi looked up to say, "He's been like this ever since the attack. He keeps saying that he can feel her pain. The other Bendu say it's not possible, that Le'orath doesn't have enough Force ability to broadcast like that. But…." She shrugged, helpless under the onslaught of frantic tears.

Wanting to bury his head in his hands and weep, instead he watched them both. "Is she? Is there nothing they can do for her?"

"You and I both know that Le'orath is a stubborn woman." She gave up kneeling, instead sat down and gathered Ben into her arms, smoothing down his hair and pulling him close. "When the healers insist, she'll take her meds but sometimes she's not… fully conscious of what she's doing. She has nightmares, flashbacks, too. I'm sorry, Qui-Gon. I don't know what else to do."

"I know you are doing all you can." His heart ached to see his son, shivering in Shmi's arms. He wanted so much to take him into his embrace as Shmi had done and help him through this but it was useless. "Ben and Le' have always been very close. It would not surprise me if he is feeling something. At his age, shielding is a problem, too."

"Pavel has been working with Ben on the shielding and it's fine most of the time but if he gets upset, well, I suppose it could be psychosomatic – that's what the healers are claiming but I don't think so." Shmi leaned down to kiss Ben's head. "He's very sensitive and this… horror may have, I don't know, perhaps it triggered something?"

"It's possible. If Mace had survived, I'd have asked Adi to take him for a while. But she has her own grief to bear." Qui-Gon wracked his brain trying to think of someone else who might be able to help his son. "I know you are doing the best you can, Shmi, but I'll try and see if Le'orath can talk to Ben at least. He might be able to calm down more if he knows that she's getting better."

The question about whether Le' was getting better remained unspoken. He didn't want to upset Ben even more than he already was.

"I'm sure it would be good for her to see him, too." She was still smoothing down Ben's hair and rocking him gently.

Ben had finally stopped crying but his face was wet and he looked so unhappy that it hurt Qui-Gon to see it. "I want to see mommy, daddy."

"Ben, she might not be able to see you. She's still pretty sick." He gave his son a little smile. "But I'll try."

Blinking up at him, Ben seemed to accept that. He didn't protest when Shmi rose up, only clung to her skirts as she moved to the transmission controls.

"I'll transfer you to her room, Qui-Gon. She's allowed visitors." The woman smiled down at Ben. "I'll get this one cleaned up a bit and meet you there if that is alright with you."

"Shmi, thank you. For this and everything else, too. I don't know what I'd have done if you hadn't been here."

Shaking her head, Shmi said, "Qui-Gon, we are family. This is the least I could do for you." She leaned forward, her hands over the controls, her face serious. "I'll transfer you now. Good luck."

One moment, he was looking at Shmi's brown eyes, the next a healer's concerned frown. Beyond, he could see a bed and a long pile of blankets and a spill of red hair, Le'orath's color. It would appear that his wife was lying there, facing the window with its frame of snow-capped mountains, but he couldn't see her enough to know if she were awake or not.

Qui-Gon turned back to the man as he said, "Master Jinn? It's good to see you again. I trust you are well." Bors was a fussy kind of healer but he was perfect for troublesome patients, just enough gruffness to get them to do what he asked but with a sympathetic manner that endeared him to family.

"Well enough." He dismissed the concern with a wave of his hand. "How is Le'orath? Is she awake?"

One look at Qui-Gon's worried face and Bors said, "She is still refusing to talk with anyone but as her healer, I know that the continued insistence on isolation is counter-productive. However, I will ask that you keep it brief. She tires easily."

Last time, he hadn't been able to see her, the healers explaining that she'd refused him and at the time, they would abide her wishes. Now, at last, he'd get to speak with her. "Of course, Healer. My son will be arriving momentarily and I hope that she will agree to see him, if only for a few moments. He misses her."

"I'll make sure the boy isn't turned away. It's been far too long and it isn't good for either of them." Bors reached out, and he must have picked up the transmission unit because Qui-Gon's view of the room tilted and then changed as they moved closer to Le'orath's bed. As he walked toward her, Bors said, "Le'orath, Qui-Gon is asking for you."

The room view steadied as the unit was placed on some kind of table. From here, he could see Le'orath's face, half-bandaged and there were more on her neck and going down into her dressing gown. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, not sleeping but as if to shut him out and one hand fisted in the blankets. It was clear she was aware that he was there, if only present in the blue-haze of comm-feeds.

He'd never felt so out-of-balance. He wanted to reach out, gather her in his arms and never let go. Instead, he said, "Le'orath, please talk to me. I've missed you."

At first she said nothing, just shook her head, trembling under the blankets with cold or fear or some strong emotion that she refused to acknowledge. But when he persisted, kept calling her name and murmuring apologies, her eyes flew open and she snapped at him. Her voice was raw, almost as if it had been scoured with acid. "I don't want you here."

He'd never seen such hatred from her before, not in all the years he's known her. He could feel her gaze, her green-fire eyes burning through the transmission. Taken aback, he said softly, "I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Do I look alright?" The laugh was painful to hear. All contempt and ferocity and when the bitter sound morphed into accusations, her voice kept rising, rough and caustic and very, very angry.

"He killed my baby and then he… carved me up like I was meat and laughed while he did it. And where were you?"

Her last words spat out and he tried not to flinch. She still blamed him for it and he couldn't say that she was wrong, either. He should have been there for her. As gently as he could, he murmured, "Le'…."

She would have none of it. She pushed up, pain clear in the way she grunted, curling inward even as she tried to face him. Healer Bors was hovering over her, telling her to lie down and try and keep from getting any more upset, that it would only hinder her recovery, but she ignored him.

Bile was rising in his throat. He could see more bandages; Force, he had no idea of how badly she'd been injured and it was all his fault that it had come to this.

She must have seen something in the way he was looking at her because the unbandaged half of her face smiled, the skin pulling tight and it was more a mask than anything of hers. "Not so pretty any more, am I, Qui-Gon?"

Trying to keep the horror out of his reply, he said, "I love you. It doesn't matter what you look like. You should know that."

It was only making things worse. She obviously didn't believe him, her face turning into snarls and hot fury. "So selfless, so understanding, so willing to save the galaxy." She was upright, bulky bandages around her abdomen and he could see tubes buried in her hand. She was paler than he'd ever seen her. "Saving everyone else while I screamed. While my blood boiled and the pain was unbearable and…," Tears were beginning to streak her skin with grief. "Desperate and alone and where were you? Where were you!"

Bors was frantic, trying to get her to lie down again, gesturing and when it didn't work, in the background, Qui-Gon could hear him calling for backup.

"Le', please, rest. I'll talk to you when you are feeling better."

"My hero." Bitter, sharp as glass, she spat out, "Don't come back."

He felt like he'd been stabbed again, as though Tharten's vibroshiv was still in his gut. Le'orath was almost beyond reasoning and she was fighting Bors's grasp as he tried to ease her back down but still she was struggling, her unbandaged hand reaching for the transmission controls.

"Le'orath, you can't mean that." Words were stumbling out, but they had no meaning.

All he could see, all he could hear was her hatred as she shouted, "Don't… come… back!"

There was a roar of sound. More healers arrived in the room and they began to babble to each other, trying to get Le'orath to calm down, for her to stop screaming at Qui-Gon. Over the healers' increasingly strident commands, she snarled at him to stay away, to leave her alone, that he'd already chosen the Jedi over her, that he was not going to take away her son and turn him against her. That over and over again she said, "Don't come back!"

It was growing chaotic and as they wrestled her down, Ben ran into the room, past all the adults and scrambled up onto the bed, pulling at her, crying for her. In the ensuring madness, Healer Bors reached over and turned off the comlink.

The room, his wife, his son winked out of blue-hazed existence and he was left bereft, cold and alone.

In one corner of his mind, he knew that she was reacting to all that had happened to her, that when she was truly calm, she wouldn't act that way toward him, that she was half out of her mind with pain and what had been done to her and had taken it out on him. But right now, it didn't feel like anything but desolation.

His choices had brought him to this and he didn't know what to do next. What he must, he supposed but that seemed little comfort.

For now, he just sat there, trapped in grief and let the moment wash over him, let the last words of his wife haunt him. _Don't come back._


	80. Chapter 42: At last part 2

**Chapter 42 – At last- Part 2**

My apologies for the length. There was no way to break it up easily**  
**

* * *

Qui-Gon didn't know how long he sat there, staring off into the darkness beyond. They'd given him a small room, little more than a bed, a 'fresher and a desk, something that a new knight would get. Enough privacy for meditation and not much more. Not even a window. The guard who had accompanied him had taken one look at it, shrugged and waited outside his door.

Now, it seemed as if the walls were pressing in, a cage from which he'd never escape.

He didn't know what to do. She'd told him not to come back; intellectually, he knew it was the shock of her experiences and the medications but still, his heart hurt every time it beat against his chest. He was both numb and flayed alive with anguish.

So caught up was he with her words that at first he didn't notice the sound of voices outside. But then the door slid open and Leabe strode in. One look at Qui-Gon and the healer frowned down at him. "Have your wounds reopened? Are you in pain?"

Shaking his head, he said, "A personal matter, nothing more."

Obviously, Leabe wasn't a fool. He must have known that Qui-Gon would have contacted his family as soon as he could and that it was likely that things between him and Le' were amiss. How could they not be after all that had gone on before?

The healer sent him a scowl, then sounding out one of those long, tortured sighs that spoke volumes of how much he didn't like Qui-Gon's terse reply, he sat down next to him. "Attachment is forbidden. The Jedi Order has had good reasons for doing so. It had kept us balanced for the last thousand years."

"You call this balanced?" Furious at being lectured over something Leabe knew nothing about, Qui-Gon snapped derision at him and then looked away, down at his hands. "It would appear to be failing, has been failing for a very long time. And you have forgotten that I am not a Jedi."

"You will always be a Jedi, Master Jinn, no matter what else you are."

He could not argue the point. It was truth after all. He would always be a Jedi. He'd been raised in the ways of the Temple; it was bred into his bones and blood and no matter the trappings, his instincts were first and always to follow the Force in all things.

He'd tried to tell Le'orath that. But she could no more understand it than he could understand how it was to bear a child. He could see it, hear her explanations but it wasn't the same. And the loss of the child was even more incomprehensible. He felt grief for their unborn daughter, now gone into the Force, intense grief but how much more was Le's anguish. She'd been carrying their baby all these months; she'd felt the child move in her womb. No wonder she'd screamed at him.

Yes, he might be a Jedi but he had a life back on Naboo, and he would return to it and his family.

"I am Bendu now." Shaking his head, he said, "I will deal with this in my own way."

Another scowl from Leabe but he ignored it. Instead, Qui-Gon pressed one hand against his stomach and tried to breathe out the pain. The meds were beginning to wear off again and although the ache had lessened over the last days, it still hurt.

"Of course you will. You always do. Now, let me see how badly you've mucked up my work."

Leabe batted his hands away, started pulling Qui-Gon's tunics aside and looked at the gut wound. It was still angry-looking but in fact, the scarred tissue was already beginning to contract and he knew that physical therapy would be next; otherwise, his mobility would be impaired and he couldn't allow that to happen.

There was a slight pleased noise coming from the healer as he shoved the tunic back into place. "You heal quickly. I believe that aside from the pain medication which I'll reduce over the next several days, you should begin therapy tomorrow. Small things, of course, katas if you don't push it too much and some weight training but it looks better than I would have thought."

It was better than he'd hoped. He'd worried that Leabe would draw his recovery out or restrict him in some way but it would seem that the healer understood him well enough. He'd have forced the issue if it had come down to it, but now it wasn't necessary.

Before Leabe could demand some confidence from him, not wanting to talk further about his family and still worried about his old padawan and what he must be feeling, Qui-Gon said, "How is Obi-Wan?"

"I'm concerned. He needs guidance, Qui-Gon. He needs to let go of his grief, to find his center again but he won't listen to me about it or any of the other doctors who have dealt in trauma." The healer looked both exasperated and troubled. Giving out another long sigh, he said, "You knew him quite well at one time. I know you have your own issues but I hope you might be able to help him. At least get him to listen."

Leabe might be a surly, overbearing, incredibly stubborn man but he did seem to care about his patients.

"I will do all I can to help him. For his sake."

That seemed to placate the healer. "Good. You will find him in your old quarters." He inclined his head and rose to leave. "Push him if you have to, Qui-Gon. He's put up barriers but he's hurting. I think you will be the one to break through if anyone can. And who knows – he might be able to help you, too. You are both stubborn enough."

Qui-Gon nodded. Leabe might be right. His old padawan had certainly helped him regain his balance many times over the years. It was time to repay that debt.

* * *

Obi-Wan was alone. Standing in the middle of the room, clutching his padawan's tunic in his hands, he seemed oblivious to his surroundings, Beyond, Qui-Gon could see the remnants of what must have been Atel's last day: a mug left unwashed, datapads spilled across the desk, and the pile of laundry waiting for their owners' attention. Obi-Wan had always been neat, sometimes obsessively so. Obviously Atel had not been so organized.

It must have been painful to return to such echoing emptiness, a vivid reminder of a life cut short.

Knowing that he had to get Obi-Wan to focus on regaining his balance, without a word, Qui-Gon walked over to him and gently tugged at the tunic. There was resistance at first, almost a struggle, but at last Obi-Wan let go, empty hands falling to his side.

"She was never tidy," he murmured as Qui-Gon guided him to the couch. "Precise and painstakingly tenacious with missions but I could never train the messiness out of her. Such a simple thing…."

"I was the despair of my old master, too. Endlessly collecting things, everything singing of the Living Force but Dooku refused to understand. I returned one day to find it all gone." He shook his head. "He said it was a lesson in Jedi doctrine. No possessions."

"Yes, no possessions. No…no attachments." Obi-Wan was staring down at his fingers almost bloodless in the way they were curled, bone and sinew a stark white.

"He claimed that it was his right to train me the way he thought best and if I didn't agree, I could leave the Order. He was frowning in that way of his but still there was amusement in his eyes." A shrug, sending the memory of that hurt back into the dark recesses of his past. "I didn't trust him after that. He'd gone behind my back. I learned later that he should have made me face my weaknesses, to guide me into understanding. But I suspect now that he did it to hurt me and to see how I'd react. He was crueler than I wanted to admit then."

"He must have done something right. You survived." The sound of bitterness was tinged with regret and still Obi-Wan frowned down at his hands.

"Despite him, padawan. It was my choice to learn from him." He turned to Obi-Wan, put one hand on his shoulder, trying to reassure through touch. "I saw how you were with Atel. Understanding and the right amount of sternness mixed with your own odd brand of humor." Obi-Wan glanced toward him, a fleeting smile that faded back into guilt. "She loved you as a daughter would. It was clear in her arguments and her stubborn determination to keep you safe. She would not want you to mourn."

Obi-Wan shook him off, looked away. "She's dead because of me."

"She's dead because of Sidious. It was her choice to make, not yours." The man could be so obstinate at times although Qui-Gon was forced to admit that they were evenly matched in that regard. "A Jedi must let go of these dark emotions, Obi-Wan, as you must."

For a moment, there was a heavy silence; Qui-Gon hoped that he'd broken through Obi-Wan's guilt-laden barriers, that he'd listen to a thousand generations of Jedi wisdom.

But instead, twisting around, a frown cutting into his skin, Obi-Wan snapped, "Have you? Have you ever?" Anger and remorse and accusations - Qui-Gon wanted to deny it but there was truth there, too. "All those years of mourning Tahl, of agonizing about Xanatos. Years of it, decades and you never let go. Even now I can feel your pain. So tell me, Master Jinn, you think I should let it go? Have you let go of yours?"

When Obi-Wan was younger, Qui-Gon would have used a stern master's gaze to curb such accusations, to remind him of his place but they had both been through too much in the last ten years and Obi-Wan was no longer a boy.

"No, you are right. I haven't."

Obi-Wan must have expected denial. He jerked back, blinking at the admission, then gave an unhappy, almost repentant sigh and looked down, away from Qui-Gon's gaze.

"Le'orath's injuries are extensive. The bacta is helping with the physical damage and the healers think she will recover eventually but she blames me for it." He hesitated, the memory of her fury painful, but Obi-Wan deserved to know, "She told me not to return."

His head came up and there was sympathy in his eyes. "I am sorry."

Nodding, Qui-Gon said, "She is a stubborn woman but I will go home once this is done and we will see then if her answer remains the same."

"I want to go back with you to Naboo." Obi-Wan nodded toward the unwashed mug and the sad scatter of datapads on the table. "There is nothing left for me here."

It might be that his old padawan did truly want to go to Naboo, perhaps even join the Bendu group but at that moment, it was too soon. There was too much that remained unresolved.

"Running away won't solve this, Obi-Wan."

Hot indignation flashed in grey-green eyes; his reply was sharp as glass. "Is it running away when everything you've believed in has been a lie?"

Still darkness there, still anger on the surface but underneath Qui-Gon could hear the plea for some kind of understanding. "The Council used you, yes, but that does not negate all the good you've accomplished in the last ten years." Laying a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, he said, "The Bendu would welcome you as would I. But first you must face your losses and come to terms with them."

The warmth of his touch, memories of other, happier times, seemed to speak to Obi-Wan in ways that argument could not. There was no anger in his voice when he said, "As should you."

"As should I." Qui-Gon bent his head, acknowledgment that Obi-Wan was righter than he would care to admit. "Together I think we will both be stronger for it."

* * *

It got easier.

In the days that followed, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan established a routine that seemed to work. Qui-Gon would contact Naboo – although Le'orath still refused to speak with him, and then he and Obi-Wan shared in therapy to improve their wounds' healing and in the meditation that they both desperately needed. Healer Leabe pushed and prodded and generally was a profound nuisance but they were slowly getting better in both mind and body. They were even allowed beginner's katas which pleased Qui-Gon, warm comfort in Jedi tradition.

He didn't try to find out what else was going on. He saw Sle'fey from afar at times and there was a great deal of unsettled energy in the Force during their meditations when Qui-Gon guided his thoughts toward him. He could only assume that the Bothan Master was scheming again. But neither he nor Obi-Wan were approached to help with his intrigues and Sle'fey must have known that he would have been refused anyway.

Trying to curb his impatience to return home was increasingly difficult, though, every rebuff from his wife painful. Then, too, there were disturbing reports of things beyond the Temple walls. The political upheavals of a Republic in flux, the questions about who would be the next Supreme Chancellor as well as the Vice Chairman's fate must have been on everyone's mind. But of that, Qui-Gon could do nothing and he turned away from brooding about it.

Still he could feel that something was about to break.

Then it did.

* * *

They had just come out of meditation. Qui-Gon felt more centered than he had since leaving Naboo and Obi-Wan even smiled a moment before retreating back into solemnity. The Force's currents were running clear and bright and there were colors there that he'd not perceived in decades - a welcome sign that perhaps the Sith influence was waning.

As they emerged from the chamber, Lieutenant Bodda was waiting for them, talking hurriedly into his comlink even as he nodded in their direction. With a final click, he said, "You are both requested to attend a meeting with the Supreme Chancellor immediately. Master Sle'fey will meet us at the shuttle."

Beside him, he could see Obi-Wan tense but Qui-Gon just nodded. "So they've chosen someone to take Palpatine's place. May I know the name?"

"It will be all over the holonet soon enough. Mon Mothma of Chandrilla has accepted the post."

At least it wasn't one of Amedda's ilk. With Mothma, the Jedi would have a chance of rebuilding or at least not sliding further into destruction. Reputed to be a wily politician, Qui-Gon had heard of Senator Mothma's firm but fair judgment even on Naboo; she'd proved it in the hearings they'd just been through.

Qui-Gon had to suppress a smile, though. The thought of Sle'fey and Mothma maneuvering around each other, looking for the best advantage for their people, was, in a way, immensely satisfying. The Bothan would have his paws full trying to manipulate her.

As they turned down the corridor toward the shuttleport, Obi-Wan leaned in, murmured softly enough that only Qui-Gon would hear, "It would appear that they've reached some kind of decision about our case but I can sense no danger in it."

Obi-Wan's awareness of future possibilities was certainly better than his, always had been, but he agreed with the assessment. He could feel no true danger. "Nor I. A guilty verdict would likely be made in front of the whole Senate but we shall see."

"Have you any idea of what Sle'fey has been up to?"

Obi-Wan hadn't mentioned the Bothan in the past few days of meditation and therapy but Sle'fey must have been on his mind. After all, betrayal of that depth was not easy to forget. At least Obi-Wan was asking about him with some calm; there was very little anger in his voice - a good sign.

Qui-Gon whispered back, "None. But he's not one to let any advantage be lost. I'm sure that there will be surprises, for both Mothma and Sle'fey."

The guard was watching them, clearly trying to listen and they fell silent. Qui-Gon did not want to give the Republic bureaucrats anything that could be used against them, not now.

Ahead, Sle'fey was indeed waiting for them at the shuttle, a picture of Jedi serenity. Surprisingly, one of the other Council members was there as well, a man that Qui-Gon knew the Bothan could count on to be on his side – Tion Mezda of Procurement.

It would appear that Sle'fey was more worried than he seemed if he needed backup. But he did nothing but bow slightly toward Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan and then turn back to Medza.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Obi-Wan glaring back to the Bothan Master but at least he didn't say anything. Now was not the time for recriminations and he must have realized it.

As they walked onto the shuttle, another Jedi was waiting, someone who strode quickly over to Sle'fey and started talking with him. "I wonder why he's here." When Qui-Gon looked puzzled, Obi-Wan nodded toward the man. "Master Greza. He's an expert in Republic/Jedi laws and contracts. I've dealt with him in the past."

"Perhaps Master Sle'fey has need of him."

At that, Obi-Wan just shook his head. "More likely using him." But he said nothing else, just walked into the shuttle and sat down, staring out into the busy sky above. Qui-Gon sat next to him, trying to be a quiet strength for Obi-Wan in the trials ahead.

Still, it was a tense ride and silent.

Once inside the Senate building, they were quickly ushered into a room colored in tones of blues and greens with calm, clean lines and space. Beyond the window-wall, the bright sunlight glinted off the cityscape beyond. The entire effect was soothing yet elegant and very much in keeping with what Qui-Gon had expected of Mon Mothma's office.

The Supreme Chancellor was seated behind a wide, uncluttered desk, Padmé and Bail Organa flanking her and there were a scatter of Senators, some sympathetic and others like Tarken, openly hostile to the Jedi, standing impassively nearby.

Padmé gave Qui-Gon a quick nod and then he turned to face Mothma, the Jedi beside him.

For a long, drawn-out moment, there was silence.

Mothma looked around at the Senators, nodding to each one in turn, and then as she turned back to the Jedi, she said, "Master Sle'fey, Knight Kenobi and former Master Jinn, we have brought you here today to inform you that the charges against you with regards to the late Supreme Chancellor Palpatine's death have been dismissed. The holovids found in Palpatine's office showed that you acted hastily and without authorization from the Senate but that you were indeed defending yourselves once the attacks by Supreme Chancellor Palpatine began."

There was a growl of protest from some of the Senators but she ignored them, staring straight at Sle'fey as she continued, "That you could have handled it differently at the onset was clear and we strongly condemn your precipitous and high-handed conduct in this matter, especially the deliberate dismissal of Judicial procedure by the members of the Jedi Council who participated in this action."

Qui-Gon glanced over at the Bothan. With such thinly veiled allegations, he might have expected Sle'fey to be concerned. Instead, his white fur quiescent, his paws relaxed in front of him, he looked almost pleased. Qui-Gon had to wonder what else was up the master's voluminous sleeve.

It was obvious that Sle'fey's reaction did not sit well with the Supreme Chancellor; a sharp frown was cutting across her skin. But instead of castigating him further, she leaned forward, pressed her hands flat against the shine of her new desk, and said simply, "However, further evidence has been found to support your claims of Palpatine's wrong-doings."

A rising murmur as some of the Senators whispered to one another, clearly unhappy with what Mothma was saying. She sent them another quelling look. But as the mutters died, their grim, sour faces told another tale. There would be more political maneuvering behind closed doors soon enough.

"Former Master Jinn is free to return to Naboo. Knight Kenobi is also absolved of responsibility in this matter."

All at once, the tight knot in his chest seemed to loosen and fall away and joy, incandescent relief flooded him. He could go home, be with his family again, kiss Le'orath again, gather little Ben in his arms and never let go.

Beside him, he could hear Obi-Wan let out a deep sigh, the sound of an ordeal over. They were free.

It was over.

No so for the head of the Jedi Council. Mothma turned her gaze full on the Bothan. "However, Master Sle'fey will be questioned further about his role in attempting to arrest a Supreme Chancellor of the Republic without going through the proper channels."

"Of course, Chancellor. I will answer any questions you may have on that issue. I'm sure that we will come to an understanding once all the information has been laid out before you." Smooth as septsilk, Sle'fey bowed toward her. "You will find that Darth Sidious was not a common criminal. We feared that he had his own informants among the Republic security forces and we could not risk him finding out, Time was of the essence and…."

"Have a care, Master Sle'fey." She cut him off, staring at him in distaste. "You would do well to consider your words before you accuse the Republic or its forces of wrong-doing."

His voice was mild but Sle'fey's dark eyes were gleaming with intent. "As I said in my testimony, we did send the information about Sidious to the Judiciary before we went to his office."

Grunts of disapproval followed him, dismay and growing discontent.

Mothma's eyes flicked toward the grumbling Senators. "I will have notification sent to the Jedi Council when the committee looking into this matter reconvenes. For now, we have other more pressing concerns to discuss." Her gaze back on Sle'fey for a moment, she turned away, gesturing toward a knot of Senators on her left. A clear dismissal. Several of the bureaucrats moved in closer to her desk, datapads and comlinks in hand.

Qui-Gon had to admit that he wasn't paying much attention to the discussion. He was relieved that it was finally over, that his path was clear toward home and the battle of words between Mothma and the Jedi Councilor was only a hindrance to it.

So as he began to turn away, Obi-Wan mirroring his move, he almost didn't hear Sle'fey say flatly, "Yes, Chancellor, we do indeed have pressing matters to discuss."

Heads came up at that.

Mothma shook off one Senator who was trying to shove a datapad into her hand. "I don't have the time to speak of your individual concerns at the moment. Schedule an appointment."

"An appointment?" Sle'fey sniffed at that, resolve clear as he stepped forward. The other two Jedi he'd brought with him moved to stand beside him, their solid presence a seeming wall of support. "And wait weeks or months while others use their political advantage to finish what Sidious had begun? I think not."

Padmé and Organa exchanged frowns, looking startled, as if they had not expected such boldness. Some of the others, particularly Senator Tarken, were glaring blaster bolts at the Jedi.

Another might have tried to soften their stance, especially when still under investigation by the Judiciary but apparently not Sle'fey. He straightened, looking stern, in command, every inch a Jedi Master ready to fight for his people.

"You go too far, Sle'fey," she said, sharply.

Instead of backing away, he shrugged off the harsh rebuke, ignored the scowls. "Will Republic policies toward the Jedi Order change now that Sidious is dead?"

"I can't say at this time." She must have realized that he wasn't going to let it go without some kind of reassurance. Mothma turned politician, trying to placate him. "I can promise we will look into it."

But Qui-Gon knew that a few platitudes would not be enough, not once Sle'fey sunk his teeth into whatever plot he'd set into motion.

So he was not surprised when the Bothan said coldly, "As the Senate has done so many times before?"

Looking as if she'd been struck, it took a moment, hard breath and a deliberate flattening of her hands on the desk before she said, "Your concerns are valid but we've more important items at the moment. Perhaps during the next budget session of the Senate, you can argue for more funding."

Sle'fey stood there, white fur rising, his muzzle curled back for a few seconds before he seemed to collect himself.

"I thank the Supreme Chancellor for her candor. I will be glad to see justice done in the Republic at last."

"Are you accusing us of injustice in this matter?"

She must have realized he was mocking her. The very air seemed to crackle with disapproval.

Reaching up, pointing one claw out toward the window and the landscape beyond, his voice growing more impassioned as Sle'fey said, "The Jedi Order was once ten thousand strong, the guardians of peace and justice in the Republic. And now we are half of our strength, dismissed without cause, several hundred of those killed under a Sith Lord's orders while the Senate stood by and argued about credits. Do you call that _justice_?"

There was truth in what he said and Mothma did not bother to deny it. But apparently she wasn't willing to talk about it, either.

"Master Jedi, now is not the time."

"This is exactly the time, Chancellor." Another step forward and the guards along the wall began to edge toward Sle'fey, watching him anxiously. His gaze flicked toward them, his mouth curling a little and then he shrugged off the increasing tension. "You have a chance to right the wrongs of your predecessor. If we do not press the issue now, you know full well that it will be pushed aside as unimportant. What Darth Sidious had begun will continue until there is no Jedi Order left."

"You are exaggerating." She shook her head, began to reach for a datapad, dismissing his concerns with a wave of one hand.

It only hardened Sle'fey's voice and the glitter in his dark eyes.

"Am I? You know the Senate as well as I do. There are still those who would see the Order destroyed and our members brought down. Some of them are here right now." His muzzle lifted toward Tarken, who in the moment which followed, bent down and whispered something into the Chancellor's ear.

Nodding, she looked up, said sharply, "Master Sle'fey, I will not be bullied into a hasty decision on this matter. If you cannot or will not understand this, I will have you removed from my office."

The Bothan stilled, gazed at Tarken, then back toward Mothma. A moment of charged silence, then Sle'fey bowed. "I thank you for your help in clearing up the matter of Sidious's crimes."

There was a low snicker of triumph from Tarken and some of the other Senators began to whisper among themselves, clearly thinking the little war of words was over and that they could now push forth their own agendas. The Jedi were all but forgotten.

But Sle'fey was not quite through. He drew back, looking tall and hard and defiant, no sign of defeat in his eyes but utter resolve.

"As to the other issue, the Jedi Order will do what it must to survive, with or without the Republic's help."

Another quick bow, then not waiting for the Chancellor's dismissal, he twisted around, moved to go, his cloak trailing behind him in a great swirl of cloth.

Qui-Gon had begun to step out of Sle'fey's way, hoping to follow in his furious wake, when out of the corner of his eye he could see Mothma rising, staring at Sle'fey, the Chancellor all but ignoring the Senators grappling for her attention.

"Is that a threat?" she said flatly. "Are you threatening the Republic or this office, Jedi?"

The room quieted, was almost holding its breath. Even the mutters of the clerks, of Senators and sycophants had died. Everyone, even Qui-Gon who had an inkling of where this confrontation might be headed, was waiting for his reply.

Sle'fey stopped, looked over his shoulder, growled out, "No, Supreme Chancellor, I am not." Slowly, he began to turn around, gathering attention to him, knowing that all eyes were upon him in that moment. Lifting his muzzle, he looked at her steadily, almost daring her to disagree.

Cold, flat, immovable. "But the Jedi will no longer be beggars."

For a moment, no one seemed to breathe. Qui-Gon was sure that some of them didn't understand what Sle'fey was talking about, hadn't the faintest idea of the ramifications. They were shrugging, the datapads in their hands bright as they gestured toward the Chancellor, attempting to get her attention once more.

But Mothma was a wily politician, used to using words as weapons as easily as a Jedi might a lightsaber blade. She knew. The white face, the scowl distorting her features into a mask, she knew.

Tarkin, too, understood. Letting out an unbelieving bark of laughter, he began to clap slowly, the theatrical gesture a mockery of everything Sle'fey had said. "Well played, Jedi, well played. We could almost believe you…." Hands now sweeping the air as if gathering his friends to share in the absurdity, he pushed himself forward. "If not for the fact that the Order cannot survive without Republic aid."

"Times have changed. We will seek our destinies elsewhere."

It was insane, of course. Qui-Gon knew that Sle'fey was manipulating the situation to his own advantage, that he must have some kind of way out of this crisis. It couldn't be that he was serious. The Republic and the Jedi had been allied for over a thousand generations, ever since the formation of the galactic government. He didn't think that the Senate would even know what to do if the Jedi left. He wasn't sure the Jedi would know, either.

Or could it be that the Bendu, in returning to the old ways, to the very beginnings of the Jedi, had given Sle'fey something to strive for? Even if the Jedi were to join the Bendu, there were still things unique to the Order, still things that the Republic needed from them. The implications were enormous.

"Senator Tarkin is right. You cannot survive without us. Don't be a fool."

It would seem that the Chancellor had not thought it would come to this; after all, the Jedi had accepted every slight, every cut in service and the dismissal of hundreds of their own without protest. Now, when things were about to improve however little that might be, most factions would have accepted it with grace and thanked the Senate for their generosity.

Sle'fey was not thanking anyone, however. He sent a lazy flick of his eyes toward Tarkin, dismissing him with one gesture as unimportant, and then turned back to Mon Mothma.

"Since the Senate has seen fit to discharge our members, cut off our funding and try and destroy our Order, we will bow to their wishes and remove ourselves from their concerns."

Taken aback by his refusal, obviously still reeling from this turn of events, she said, "You can't be serious."

His eyes implacable, he nodded toward her. "Very serious, Chancellor."

Tarkin was furious. Qui-Gon could see it in the fisted hands and black eyes, the blue veins pulsing under his skin. The man was not one to cross and he had powerful friends in the Senate. Now it would seem he let his anger fuel his enmity for the Jedi. "This is absurd. You have little in the way of assets, nowhere to go. This posturing will get you nothing, Jedi, less than nothing. You are only making yourself look foolish."

Turning back to Mothma, Senator Tarkin wasn't finished. "Chancellor, you see how he treats our generosity, with contempt and a ridicule that goes far beyond what is acceptable for someone in such desperate need of Republic funds. I believe that we need to tighten our grip on the Order, not reward them for this. In fact, we don't need them at all. My latest findings have shown that…"

"Senator, please." Mothma cut across the tirade, one hand raised to silence him. "I would hear how Master Sle'fey plans to keep the Jedi Order from collapsing without our help." She looked back at the Bothan. "Senator Tarkin is right. You don't have the funds to sustain yourself, Jedi. What you are suggesting is madness."

"Not madness, Chancellor, but determination." Head lifted, he looked across the room, taking in every one of the Senators and bureaucrats staring at him with disbelief in their eyes. Then, with an air of indifference to the hatred pouring off Tarkin and his ilk, Sle'fey said, "We have facilities elsewhere. With our reduced personnel and the sale of what we no longer need, the assets we have will be enough."

Mothma seemed to frown at that, as if it had never occurred to her that the Jedi might actually own something. Qui-Gon knew that some of the older Temples were not Republic property nor were the many of the smaller outposts; they had predated the founding of the Republic. The main Temple on Coruscant would have to be abandoned, but with careful spending and a smaller population to care for, Sle'fey might just pull it off.

A few whispers in the far corner but Sle'fey ignored the noise. He focused on the Supreme Chancellor; if he had any hope of turning the tide and staying within the Republic, Qui-Gon knew the Bothan master would need her support. "We have considered our options but as I said, without major changes as to how the Republic deals with us… well, we will not accept the end of the Jedi Order. Not for you, Chancellor, not for the Senate, not for the Republic." Another slight bow. "Now, if you have no further questions, I will leave you to your _pressing_ matters."

A huff of amusement from Tarkin and a loud, "Good riddance."

But the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic was not so eager to see them go. After all, the Republic had been allied with the Jedi from its inception. Qui-Gon knew it would look amiss if they left shortly after Mothma took office. A sign of weakness.

As he turned to go once more, she said sharply, "Enough." Sle'fey didn't seem surprised, merely settled into a patient kind of strength and waited as she gestured to the guards. "This audience is at an end. I want this room cleared. However, Master Sle'fey, and Senators Tarken, Amidala, and Organa will remain." Catching the eye of her secretary, she shoved several of the datapads in her direction. "Ereta, cancel my appointments for the afternoon. I will comm you when I am free."

The other Senators and bureaucrats were grumbling as the guards began to herd them out the door, some of them loudly but the security forces seemed stubbornly immune to their threats. Qui-Gon, and he knew Obi-Wan as well, was grateful for the respite. He didn't need to know what kind of maneuvering Sle'fey was planning; the Bothan was a consummate manipulator and even Mothma would be hard-pressed to keep up.

Besides, Naboo and his family were waiting.

As he moved toward the door, he could hear Sle'fey say, "Master Mezda should remain as well as Master Nefe who has represented the Jedi in the past. I think you will find his insights into this issue interesting."

Tarkin was already protesting, his sharp voice rising fast. "Chancellor, this is ridiculous. You cannot think to let this Bothan scum dictate how the Senate deals with the Jedi. He is…."

The soft whoosh and the door cut off whatever else Tarkin was about to say.

There were knots of Senators furiously arguing with each other, some loud, some in harsh whispers and several of them were giving Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan hard looks, but he ignored them, started moving toward the shuttleport.

Lieutenant Bodda, the Chalactan who had been guarding them all this time hurried up to them, bowed slightly, and then began walking beside them. "As Chancellor Mothma has dismissed the charges, you are released from my custody. Your weapons will be returned to you this afternoon."

Obi-Wan was silent, obviously still thinking about what was going on in the Chancellor's office but Qui-Gon said, "Thank you, Lieutenant."

"Master Jinn, just so you know, I'm glad it turned out the way it did." He gave Qui-Gon a slight smile. "I wish you both well. It has been an honor." And with another nod, he walked away, already talking into his comlink, duty calling him again.

Obi-Wan just kept walking, ignoring the growing sounds of argument behind him, frowning as if he were thinking hard. Qui-Gon didn't want to interrupt whatever was bothering him; besides, he was still wondering about Naboo and transports and how quickly he could arrange to go home.

It was only when they were alone in the empty halls, nearing the shuttle that Obi-Wan said, "I don't understand it. Sle'fey should have waited for a more opportune time, not made the Chancellor into an enemy."

Looking around, making sure no one could overhear them, Qui-Gon nodded, sent back a slight smile. "It was the perfect time. Mon Mothma is vulnerable at the moment. She has to appear to be in control as she takes over the Chancellorship. But she also can't seem to be following in Sidious's footsteps, not now when they've found out just what he was."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I don't see how Sle'fey manipulating her into a corner will do any good. She'll have to fight back."

"I don't think she really cares all that much about the funding. It is a small blip in the grander scheme of Republic finances." He gave his old padawan a brief, wry smile. "But knowing her reputation, I'm sure she's already using her considerable skills to make it look like she knew of the situation and was just using Sle'fey's high-handed approach to push for changes that she wanted anyway."

"So it was all posturing." Obi-Wan's scowl deepened and he began to rub absently at his shoulder, wincing as he pressed in a little too hard but not stopping. But as he saw Qui-Gon watching him, he dropped his hand to his side and shrugged off the concern. "Sle'fey must know that he doesn't have enough leverage to get what he wants."

Qui-Gon nodded. "But he needed to push for some kind of reform. What he said was true. When I left, the funding for the Jedi Order was already being shoved aside for other, as she said, 'more pressing matters'. Now, with the Order on the brink of collapse, he couldn't let that continue."

"No, he couldn't." Obi-Wan's gaze slid past him, toward the shuttleport and beyond that, the Jedi Temple in the misty distance.

As they approached the platform, he could see that there were only few beings waiting there, seemingly uninterested in anything but their own gossip. But they stopped anyway, just out of range, unwilling to risk someone overhearing them.

"Look at it from her perspective," Qui-Gon said, softly. "She is dealing with Sidious's death, the scandal of corruption among several Senators and Amedda's lies. A vast conglomeration of planets each with their own agenda clamoring for attention. For appearance's sake, she has to take charge, balancing the needs of the Republic with the loud voices of those in power." He nodded out toward the Temple. "Once things died down in a year or two, she might have increased the credits going to the Order, perhaps reversed something of the regulations but only enough so that her enemies wouldn't claim foul or even accuse the Jedi of mind manipulation."

There was a small speck coming their way, the shuttle nearing. Qui-Gon took a step toward the platform as he said, "But for the Jedi Order, it would be a matter of too little too late. Sle'fey knows this."

"Yes, but he's has been playing this game for a very long time. I only hope that his maneuvering will not ruin what little we have left." Obi-Wan's eyes gleamed, a brief flash of anger before he shrugged off the emotion. "He was right, though, about one thing. The Senate will not easily change direction. Many of the Senators have no love for the Jedi and they know how to manipulate the system. If they got the upper hand, there would be nothing left of the Order."

It must have hurt him to admit it; Obi-Wan's part in all this was small enough over the years but still to think that everything he'd dedicated his life to may have been for nothing would be a hard thing to bear. It wasn't true, of course; Obi-Wan's missions had saved countless beings but Qui-Gon could see that it still upset him.

But they could argue about it later. The shuttle had arrived. Stepping onto the craft, Qui-Gon said, "I am going back to Naboo as soon as I can arrange transport."

Obi-Wan seemed to accept it with good grace. With a deliberately casual air, his gaze drifted away from the Senate and then staring out at the distant Temple, he said, "I haven't changed my mind, Qui-Gon. I'm coming with you."

A beat of silence. As Obi-Wan turned back to him, lifting his head as if daring him to disagree, Qui-Gon nodded. "I'll arrange passage for two, then."

* * *

It was full night. Qui-Gon didn't notice the dark shadows collecting the long depths below or that there were more lights in the city than filled the sky. Coruscant had always been full of contradictions but it didn't matter. The transport to Naboo was scheduled to leave at first hour, a fast ship that would not stopping at any of the waystations and thereby slowing his return. For that he was thankful. It was straight on to Naboo, even if the ship did leave in the middle of the night.

He would soon be home.

As he turned the corner, walking toward the Temple shuttle preparing for flight to the starport, he could see Healer Leabe speaking with Obi-Wan, shoving pain meds at him, talking excitedly about therapy and how important it was to follow his advice. Much as he admired his persistence, he had to admit that he would not miss the man's obsessive insistence on health.

Obi-Wan wasn't paying much attention to the healer, nodding at the appropriate moments but when he saw Qui-Gon, he seemed to relax a little, a slight smile lighting his face. Leabe must have realized that he no longer had Obi-Wan's focus but he took it in good grace, bowed to him as Qui-Gon moved toward them.

As expected, Obi-Wan's pack was at his feet, travel-ready. But as his padawan turned, he could see the gleam of a lightsaber on his belt.

A choice Obi-Wan has said he no longer wanted. The laws of the Republic were clear; only Jedi or those with explicit Council permission could carry a saber and yet Obi-Wan still had his. It was possible that he'd obtained a waiver but perhaps he hadn't asked. Perhaps he wasn't as sure about leaving the Order as he'd indicated. But now was not the time to question him about it.

"The ship to take us to the spacedock will be ready shortly." Obi-Wan lifted his head, gestured out into the night where the port lay, a blur of light on the horizon.

Nodding, Qui-Gon turned to Leabe. "Any news?"

The Temple had been abuzz with gossip but there was little real information. It was said that Sle'fey had come back earlier that evening but he hadn't approached either of them, instead cloistering himself with the rest of the Council for several hours.

"No news. My sources have been remarkably quiet." Leabe shrugged. "I must be losing my touch."

Qui-Gon smiled at that. He had to admit the man had a sense of humor. "No matter. I'm sure we will find out soon enough."

Leabe grew solemn. "I was just telling Obi-Wan that things might change soon. I wouldn't be surprised if… well, let's just say that the Jedi might be finding a new purpose in the months ahead."

"We couldn't have gone on as we were," Obi-Wan said sharply.

"Just so." Coughing slightly, the healer twisted around, stared off into the darkness. "Ah, here is Master Sle'fey now."

He said it so innocently that Qui-Gon was sure the healer hadn't come just to see off two former patients. He must have been sent to delay them until the Council head could arrive. But before Qui-Gon could do more than breathe out his annoyance, Leabe said, "I hope you find what you are seeking, Obi-Wan." Then bowing slightly, he stepped back just as Sle'fey reached them. "May the Force be with you." And with that, he was gone.

Obi-Wan was glaring at the back of the departing healer, deliberately not looking at Sle'fey as he approached. But the Bothan didn't seem to mind. Instead, he smiled, "I had hoped to see you both before Master Jinn left for Naboo."

Bristling at that, Obi-Wan snapped out, "I am going with him, Sle'fey. And as our shuttle leaves momentarily, you will have to excuse us."

Sle'fey didn't react, seemed to think the sharp bitterness in his once-padawan's voice was nothing. He merely nodded. "I would have a word with you first, Obi-Wan."

"I have nothing to say to you, Master." Folding his arms across his chest like some kind of shield, he stepped back, his whole demeanor as welcoming as stone.

"But I have something to say to you." When Obi-Wan only stood there, unbending and obviously still incensed about what had happened between them, Sle'fey let out a long-suffering sigh. Then he gathered himself, his muzzle lifting up, and eased into battle-ready stance. "In the coming days, we will need your strength. Your sense of purpose. For too long, we've been drifting toward the edge of the abyss and now we have a chance to change that. But we need you here."

"Find someone else to manipulate. It shouldn't be hard. You are so _very_ good at it."

White fur rising with emotion and then smoothing down again, as if Sle'fey was having a hard time holding onto his calm, he said, "Are you going to abandon us, then? When we need every Jedi to help rebuild the Order?"

"You told the Chancellor that you had enough resources. So one less blind fool shouldn't make any difference. It might even help."

Knowing that Sle'fey was here for a reason and it might be wise to listen to what he had to say even if it were more lies, Qui-Gon said, "Obi-Wan, hear him out at least. It will cost you nothing."

Grey-green eyes focused on him, full of resentment and something else he could not name, but a moment later, Obi-Wan nodded for the Bothan to continue.

"There is a place for you here, Obi-Wan. A seat on the Jedi Council if you will have it." His paws reached out, claws sheathed in a gesture of trust, his dark eyes full of earnestness and it would almost be believable if Qui-Gon hadn't already seen him use whatever method possible to get what he wanted. "Don't throw it away because of what I've done in the past."

"You are symptomatic of what is wrong with the Order. Manipulative, greedy, uncaring unless it advances your own ambitions." Stepping forward, hands spread wide for a moment and then clenched hard at his side, Obi-Wan shook his head. "Yes, you saved some lives. But only by using the Bendu to your own ends. How much of that was compassion and how much to manipulate everyone around you so that you could claw your way into more power?"

Surprisingly, Sle'fey looked upset. "Obi-Wan…."

Cutting off whatever protest the Bothan councilor was about to make, Obi-Wan snarled, "I can't believe anything you say, Sle'fey, even now."

"Then I would be a fool to argue with you." The grand gestures of wide arms and innocent guises evaporated. Sle'fey's shoulders slumped a bit, grew quieter as he said, "But I will be a fool if that's what it takes to get you to stay. Help us…, help me guide the Jedi onto a new path."

But Obi-Wan was not about to let it go. "Why should I?"

"Because you are needed. Your stubborn insistence on justice would benefit the Council and help us to find balance."

It almost sounded true. Qui-Gon knew that Obi-Wan had always had a sense of decency and duty that went beyond what was expected of him. Even as a young boy, he'd been hard-nosed about such things, stubborn to a point that drove Qui-Gon to utter frustration at times. But Obi-Wan's heart was always in the right place. The Jedi Council would indeed benefit from his presence.

Shaking his head, Obi-Wan said, "A dozen other knights could give you what you need and you know it. So what do you really want from me?"

"We may be leaving Coruscant." The Bothan looked around, murmuring softly enough that they had to lean in to hear him. "Mothma is a pragmatist but some of the Senators would do just about anything to rid themselves of our influence." Sle'fey stopped a moment, watching the shadows and then he turned back to them. "The Temple on Tython is large enough to accommodate us and we truly do have enough resources to weather this storm but we will need a core of Jedi to keep us heading in the right direction." Gazing at Obi-Wan steadily, he said, "You could be one of them."

"Flattery doesn't become you, Master. I am no one special. You proved that to me over and over again."

"You are wrong." The scowl on Obi-Wan's face didn't seem to deter Sle'fey. "We watched you struggle over the years and every time, you chose the right path, no matter what the cost to you."

When Obi-Wan said nothing back, merely looked at Sle'fey with still unbelieving eyes, the Bothan seemed to come to some kind of decision. He turned inward, curling as if cold or protecting something close to his heart. Even his fur smoothed into vulnerability.

Looking away, out into the cold shadow-filled night, Sle'fey said, "Zak…,Master Xacor made me see things that I would rather have ignored, made me realize when the plans within plans within plans would hurt those I was using. Made me question myself more than I wanted. Made me think. He had wanted to bring you in from the beginning but I wouldn't listen. And I should have." His gaze turned back to Obi-Wan's, and he smiled a moment before sliding back into gravity. "You are very like him, the same fire, the same refusal to bend to the winds of convenience."

Then Sle'fey shook off whatever was haunting him. "The Council needs you, Obi-Wan, especially now. Don't go."

For a moment, there was silence. Except for the ping of metal cooling, the soft breeze coming up from the depths of the city, the whisper of fabric dragging along the durasteel platform as Sle'fey shifted, there was a stillness there as if the world was holding its breath.

Obi-Wan stepped back, gestured toward the shuttle. "I am going to Naboo with Master Jinn and nothing you can say or do will stop me."

A swift shiver of fur, looking as if he were coming out of an unwelcome dream, disappointment colored Sle'fey's reply. "The offer remains. If you change your mind, Knight Kenobi, we would welcome your return." A bow to them both and he moved away, out of their path, tucking his paws into the sleeves of his cloak and then stood there, waiting patiently. "May the Force be with you."

Jedi Councilor or not, he did not move until they boarded the shuttle, until the door closed and it began to soar toward the spaceport. A lone figure standing tall on the platform.

As Qui-Gon watched him grow smaller and smaller in the distance, until Sle'fey could no longer be seen among the shadows and lights of Coruscant, he said softly, "I believe he was telling the truth this time."

"I don't think he knows what truth is." Looking back toward the darkened Temple and the remnants of his old life, Obi-Wan said, "But yes, this time, maybe he was."


	81. Chapter 43: May the Force part 1

**Chapter 43 – May the Force be with you**

**Part 1  
**

Qui-Gon let the silence follow them all the way to their cabin. The echo of their fateful journey to Coruscent still resonating in his memory, knowing that Obi-Wan must be feeling it, too, he didn't press for conversation. He could see that his once-padawan was still thinking hard about what Sle'fey had said, no matter how casually Obi-Wan was trying to hide it.

Making straight for the viewport, Obi-Wan stood there, arms crossed, frowning into the image. Beyond, the cityscape was dotted with light, a scatter of brilliance in a sea of black septsilk and above there was a haze where a few stars' dimness struggled through. Qui-Gon knew that would change soon enough; the ship's engines were already starting to shudder.

"I don't know what to think, Qui-Gon." Obi-Wan was still facing away. From a distance it appeared as if he was resolute, all determination; standing ramrod straight, the barrier of folded arms and set shoulders would certainly give that impression. But Qui-Gon had known him far too long not to understand the uncertainty beneath the façade. "I can't believe him. He's lied too many times to ever trust him again. But…."

"The Force will guide you, as well you know." Qui-Gon said softly, "When you are ready to listen."

Another being, someone not raised in the Jedi, might think it a reproach. After all, Obi-Wan was certainly aware that the Force was central to a Jedi's actions; he would have taught such things to Atel. But they both knew that Qui-Gon's words were meant as comfort, not rebuke.

Even so, a question remained between them, unasked.

"I thought I'd already decided what to do." Obi-Wan glanced toward him and then looked down, curling his hand around his lightsaber. "But I couldn't leave it behind. I know the law; only Jedi and those with permission may carry a saber. I'd placed it on my bed, even turned to leave, pack in hand but something drew me back. The Force, my own foolishness, I don't know but I can't seem to let my old life go."

"It is a hard decision and one that will affect not only your life but others as well. Perhaps it is better to consider it further before you reject it so quickly."

Under their feet, the rumble of engines was signaling liftoff. The brilliant lights of Coruscant were fading fast and over the lip of planet, the sun was rising, blindingly bright.

"Master Yoda would say _'Easy is the path to wisdom for those not blinded by themselves_.'" There was a kind of self-condemnation there beneath Obi-Wan's words but then after a moment, he shook himself free of whatever was troubling him and said, "What of Sle'fey's request?"

Qui-Gon thought again about that final farewell. It had been more than just Sle'fey trying to manipulate them this time. He seemed genuinely eager to have Obi-Wan remain behind. The Bothan had made it almost a personal plea. "At the end, he hadn't talked about how much you would bring to the Order if you accepted the Council post. He kept saying how much _he_ needed you to do so."

"He doesn't need anyone," he said sharply, all too quickly.

"You are wrong about that, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon shook his head. "With Master Xacor gone, it would seem that Sle'fey needs someone to keep him from straying too far and he knows it. His weaknesses and your strengths. I think you would balance each other well in time but it is your choice."

Another shake of the head. "I can't trust him."

"No, nor should you." Qui-Gon smiled a second, then gripping Obi-Wan's shoulder, squeezed warm comfort. "But think on Sle'fey's words. He never asked for your trust. In fact, he seemed to expect that you would not trust him. What he is asking for is your determination to do what is right – and that I know you have."

For a long moment, there was silence. The ship's engines had already quieted, seemed to poise for the jump to hyperspace. Obi-Wan looked out into the vastness beyond, the shine of distant stars glittering in the panorama of deep black and then back to Qui-Gon.

"The path to wisdom." Obi-Wan's mouth quirked upward, a wry smile that Qui-Gon remembered so well. "I've missed this. Your council. At times, the memories of it were the only things that kept me going."

"Sometimes the memories were all that kept me going as well." Another squeeze and he let Obi-Wan go. "Weigh all your options. No matter what you decide, you will always be welcome on Naboo, Jedi or not."

"Thank you, Master, for everything." With a nod and another slight smile, Obi-Wan glanced out the viewport and Qui-Gon turned to watch as the stars began to elongate and then to twist into hyperspace.

They were going home.

* * *

They didn't talk about Obi-Wan's dilemma. Qui-Gon thought he should give the man space enough to make his own decisions and so through the journey back to Naboo, they spoke of other things: the times they met up with Astri and her father, Dex's diner and all the foolishness that the Besalisk could get into, what had happened to people they knew, something of Qui-Gon's life with his family and the growth of the Bendu. Comfortable things, the pattern of their lives in the years since Qui-Gon had been forced to leave the Order.

Pavel Janson picked them up at the spaceport. Before he left Coruscant, Qui-Gon had alerted him that Obi-Wan would be coming to Naboo as well and Pavel acted as if nothing was out of ordinary when he arrived. Bowing them both, he waved toward the hovercraft and they were flying away in a few moments.

"Fill me in, Pavel. Important issues first."

Glancing behind him to where Obi-Wan was sitting staring out into the distance, seemingly lost in thought, Pavel's voice low enough that only Qui-Gon could hear him, he said, "Are you sure? Forgive me but Knight Kenobi is a Jedi and an official of the Republic. I cannot in good conscience discuss certain items if we might be overheard by someone who could use it against us."

"Obi-Wan may be joining the Bendu."

"I'm glad to hear it but for now, he's still a Jedi and after his actions the last time he was here, I think we should be careful."

Pavel was a good man but sometimes overly cautious. Letting out a long, slow sigh, Qui-Gon nodded. "Very well, but we will talk about this once I've seen my family. What _can_ you tell me?"

"It was definitely a Sith who killed Mace Windu. I believe it was the apprentice." He seemed worried about that - as well he should be. A Sith Master would be disastrous for the galaxy if he were still alive. But Qui-Gon could reassure him at least on that score.

"Yes, it was the apprentice. And with the help of the Jedi, we also killed the master. None other than Darth Sidious… also known as Supreme Chancellor Palpatine."

"That's… surprising." The look on Pavel's face would have been worthy of comic theater if the reality were not so deadly serious. Voice raised enough that even Obi-Wan looked up, he said, "There has been no news to that effect, not even slicer chatter." Then he nodded. "But it makes sense. He would have had power enough to hide whatever he was doing and manipulate others into helping him."

"It was a near thing taking him down. Sidious was powerful and devious and there were traps laid in his office. Then there was his own skill with a lightsaber. Most of the Jedi that went to arrest him died. It was only by a stroke of luck that Obi-Wan and I survived it." He glanced back at his padawan a moment, seeing again the pain of that day. Then he turned to Pavel. "Mon Mothma of Chandrilla is now Supreme Chancellor."

"From what I've heard, she'll be fair. She is well-respected." Pavel seemed satisfied with the news. It would remain to be seen if that kind of power didn't corrupt her in time but for now, the Republic needed a firm, honorable being as Chancellor and she was a good choice. "All our information tells us that there should be no more Sith but we've increased our vigilance just in case, especially around the Sanctuary."

"Anything else?"

Qui-Gon knew that Pavel was trying hard to avoid giving away any information but he trusted Obi-Wan to keep Bendu secrets. But it was prudent of him and he could not really blame him, not after what happened the last time Obi-Wan was on Naboo.

Sending a sharp look towards Qui-Gon, he lowered his voice again. "The packages have been delivered. No more are coming in at present. Projects that were started before you left are either completed or nearly so. Three new requests have been accepted and I've sent out Bendu to evaluate the situations. We will need to discuss additional security items when you have time."

The traffic had lightened considerably as they left the city and now Pavel was pushing the limits, the wind whistling as they sped along. Qui-Gon smiled. It felt good to let the scents and lush greenery of Naboo wash over him. It was home, his home: the brilliant flowers by the roadside, the white-capped mountains in the distance, the sparkle of water through the trees, the shiver of leaves caught in the soft breeze overhead. He'd almost forgotten how beautiful it was in the harsh duracreet reality of Coruscant.

For a moment, he just let the pressing matters alone, enjoyed the sights and smells of home. Then Qui-Gon said, "Depending on what happens in the next few days with the Jedi Order, we may have more Jedi joining the Bendu."

A slight shudder in the speeder. From Pavel's reaction, it was clear that the Jedi had managed to keep things quiet while Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were on route back to Naboo. "I've heard nothing, not even rumors. What happened?"

"There has been a change in leadership. The head of the Council, Sera Tharten, is dead. She tried to kill me and Knight Kenobi killed her defending me."

Qui-Gon looked back to see Obi-Wan's face stark with memory. It had been a hard time for them both. Even now, the pain lingered on.

"More importantly, she had been helping Darth Sidious all along to destroy the Jedi from within." Trying not to stare, still Pavel kept sending Qui-Gon fleeting looks as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Master Trest Sle'fey is now in charge. He is pushing for more funding for the Order but whether the Senate will accede to his demands or not remains unknown. If they don't, I wouldn't be surprised if the Jedi withdraw from Senate oversight and sever ties with the Republic Judiciary altogether, perhaps return to Ossus or even Typhon as an independent entity. But it's still in the early days of negotiation. I expect some kind of announcement in the next few days."

Mouth open, Pavel was gaping at him; the speeder began to drift off course slightly and it took him a moment to realize what he was doing and shift it back. Shaking his head, his eyes fixed on the road, he said, "That's unbelievable. The Order has been aligned with the Republic since its inception."

"Yes, I didn't think the Jedi would ever consider it but desperate times have led them to reevaluate the Order and its goals. They were much worse off than we'd heard, the Jedi Council corrupted by Sidious and Tharten. Now that it has been swept clean, Master Sle'fey may try and guide the Order closer to what we've done here with the Bendu. However, the Republic still needs ambassadors and negotiators and the Jedi were always there to take up the burden."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Obi-Wan listening to them both, weighing what was said and then his padawan turned away, an unhappy set to his mouth. One hand curved around his saber, almost protective and when Obi-Wan must have realized what he was doing, he folded his arms across his chest and sat back, his gaze drifting toward the distant mountains.

"Much remains unresolved," Qui-Gon said softly.

For a while, there was only the sound of wind whistling past and the low thrum of the speeder engine. As they turned into the Sanctuary entrance, Pavel said, "On a more personal note, we arranged to have your latest crop harvested. As you know, Ben is staying with Shmi and he's doing fairly well considering." He hesitated a long moment, clearly uncomfortable. "As for your apprentice, you will need to deal with him. He's been… sullen."

"I will." Anakin, another dilemma he'd have to face. He wasn't sure if it would be a joyous reunion or furious recriminations when he saw Anakin again. But he'd find out soon enough. "Has Yoda returned?"

Pavel sent him a warning look. "Not yet. He's still… traveling."

"No need to soften it, Pavel. Dooku is devious and very dangerous. If anyone, Yoda will be the one to take him down."

Frowning, likely unhappy that he was being so frank with a potential informant in the speeder, Pavel said, "Qui-Gon, I don't think…."

"Obi-Wan knows Master Yoda well and I've talked with him about Dooku before. I'm sure it's not surprising to him that my old master might be aligned with the Sith." His chest had begun to ache; there was a deeper pain in his gut where Tharthen had stabbed him, and he rubbed unthinking against the scars. "We will have to be cautious. When I've settled in, I'll want details."

"Of course." Still watching him and looking concerned, Pavel nodded. "Le'orath is in the Healer's hall, transition bay one. I believe Ben is with Shmi at the moment in the back garden."

Pushing into his skin to try and stave off the pain - the meds had worn off and he refused to take more, Qui-Gon thought about Le'orath and her reaction to his return. She would not talk to him after that last comm and he had no idea if she still felt the same way. She could be so stubborn at times, even more than he could be and that was saying a great deal.

He'd downplayed the situation when talking to Obi-Wan. The man had had enough to think about and Qui-Gon's own problems were his to face. And those problems were fast approaching.

Pulling up to the front door, Pavel turned off the engine and as Qui-Gon climbed out, he said, "I'll see Le'orath first, then try and find Ben. Obi-Wan, go with Pavel. He will show you your quarters. I'll talk with you later." Then he squared his shoulders and walked away. His wife and son were waiting.

Obi-Wan could understand Qui-Gon's eagerness to see his family. When he'd arrested his old master, Le'orath had been furious with her husband but more so with Obi-Wan for taking him away from her. But beneath the anger, he had seen the devastation in her eyes. And their son, little Ben, had cried. That had been the hardest part, to see a child so grief-stricken that it sounded as if his heart would break. He knew that now Qui-Gon would want to soothe their fears, to rejoice in reunion, to once again be surrounded by the people he loved.

He, on the other hand, had nothing. Atel was dead. The Order that he'd given his whole life to was rotting away and he still felt such bitterness at times for everything that he'd done and been done to him. Qui-Gon had tried to reassure him that he wasn't turning and Obi-Wan wanted to believe him and sometimes he almost did. But the darker emotions seemed to lurk just under his skin, waiting for the right moment to strike, and it worried him.

Coming to Naboo with Qui-Gon may have been a mistake. He knew he needed time and somewhere far from Sle'fey's rabid manipulations, somewhere he might sort it all out in meditation but right now everything was dulled in greys: the currents in the Force, the emotions he felt thinking about his past and his future, even his master's worried eyes.

He knew, deep down, that his equilibrium would return – if he'd let it. But here he was among near-strangers, except for Qui-Gon, and he'd have to make his way among them, adding to the imbalance he felt. Certainly there would be animosity toward him. He'd already seen it in Janson's reaction.

Even now, the man was muttering something about quarters and where to meet later for meals but it all seemed such noise and he wasn't paying much attention to it. But as Janson's voice rose and another's shouts began to echo down the hallway, he looked up to see Skywalker stalking toward him.

In the moments before the boy reached them, Obi-Wan noticed the anger-flushed face, one arm encased in a leather glove and determination in the way Skywalker was reaching for him. A wild fury about to descend on them all.

Stepping between them, one hand out as if to grab Skywalker before he went any further, Janson snapped, "Anakin, no!"

"Mace died because of him." An accusation steeped in rage.

"No, the Sith did that." Eyes dark with vengeance, Skywalker tried to twist around Janson, shouldering past him but the older man was a solid presence as he blocked the boy's path. "Anakin, stop this!"

"If he hadn't arrested Master Qui-Gon, none of this would've happened. Le'orath almost died because of him. Mace's dead and I'm _crippled_ because of him." Skywalker brought his gloved hand up, fisted tight and shoved it toward Obi-Wan. "My arm is _gone_ and it's his fault!"

"Anakin, you don't know that. It could have been Qui-Gon that died instead of Mace or that thing could have killed them both" Janson's voice has been rising as Skywalker's had but he must have realized that it wasn't helping matters. As he stepped forward, still blocking the boy's path, he said more slowly, "Calm down."

It didn't seem that Skywalker wasn't about to let go of his anger, not from the way he was glaring vibroshivs at Obi-Wan. "What's he doing here, then? Master said some ridiculous thing about him joining us but I don't believe it for a minute. He's probably here to arrest everyone, shut us down."

"He's here because Qui-Gon wants him here. He needs rest just as much as anyone else who's been hurt by this." Janson was still trying to diffuse the situation but it was clear that Skywalker wasn't about to listen to anyone.

"So he has you fooled, too." When the Bendu stood firm, not letting him get past, Skywalker scowled, the intensity of it cutting into his pale skin, drawing lines tight on his face. For a long, long moment, he stared at Obi-Wan, then glanced past him, clearly looking for someone. "And where's your little hanger-on? Is she skulking around looking for evidence? She's so good at that."

Skywalker's words, sarcastic and petty, so carelessly said, cut through his defenses, brought back the agony of Atel's last moments.

The wound on his shoulder throbbing in remembered pain, again in his mind's eye, Obi-Wan saw his padawan - her mouth red with blood, her face shroud-white, raw terror in her eyes and the sounds she made as she struggled not to scream, as she breathed out her life. Sidious's red saber thrusting into her, the sizzle of it as she fell, as the Sith sliced through skin and bone and blood.

The memories haunted him, would haunt him for a long time to come.

Something must have shown on his face because Janson said sharply, furiously, "Anakin, shut up before you make things worse."

"She's dead." It was a struggle even to say it. Yet Obi-Wan knew that the fact would be brought up again and again; he'd have to deal with it, learn to let go of his grief if he ever were to find peace.

"Dead? She wasn't…." For a moment, it was almost as if Skywalker understood that he had gone too far, seemed sympathetic to his sorrow. But that moment fell away and the hostility was back. Using Obi-Wan's weaknesses, his pain, the boy seemed to want to punish him, to tear him into pieces until there was nothing left. Destruction, perhaps as payment for Skywalker's own losses. "And where were you? Arresting someone else who didn't deserve it?"

"You know nothing of what happened," he said sharply. If truth be told, behind his grief there was still anger: at Skywalker, at Sle'fey and yes even Atel and Qui-Gon. These emotions were not appropriate for a Jedi; yet Obi-Wan could feel them burning at the back of his throat.

"It doesn't take much to figure out that you didn't stop it, whatever it was." The boy must have seen that he was having an effect, tried to goad him further as he said, "Were you even there?"

There was a look of fierceness in Skywalker's face, the way he leaned forward searching for proof that he was winning the battle of words, searching for ways to provoke him into anger, perhaps hoping to force Obi-Wan to leave Qui-Gon and Naboo forever if he pushed hard enough. There, too, was a slight smile triumphant, almost a smirk.

But behind that smile was grey-tinged guilt.

Staring at him a moment, thinking that perhaps he'd misread the fleeting vulnerability in Anakin's eyes, he could see the first cracks in the boy's façade. There was pain there and grief but he could see – finally - that Anakin was using accusations and anger in order to hide his own guilt for what had happened on Naboo.

It would be easy enough to pass that blame onto Obi-Wan, the man who had taken his master away and left the Bendu vulnerable. With the boy using whatever means necessary to goad him into mistakes, hoping to get Obi-Wan furious enough to fight back, it had almost worked - if not for the guilt in Anakin's eyes.

At last there was something to focus on besides his own pain. Obi-Wan was still off-balanced, still had so many emotions burning just below the surface that it hurt to think of them but he could also sympathize with the young fool's shame, even understand it. It strengthened his resolve, gentled his reply. "I was there."

"So you were just… what, standing around while she got herself killed?" Another goad, another push toward the darkness, another thrust with memory's knife.

But instead of vivid reminders of her death-agony, Obi-Wan saw again her determination to safeguard him even at the cost of her own life. A brave woman intent on keeping him safe. He should honor that sacrifice, not wallow in the bitterness of his own failings.

When he didn't answer, Skywalker stepped forward, almost within reach. Only Janson stood between them and even he was not trying to shut the boy up. "Well, what were you doing or are you too ashamed to tell us the truth?"

"I was trying to kill the Sith Lord before he killed us all." Grief-laden memory and the beginnings of acceptance ever laced with pain, he wanted to show Anakin that the boy's losses weren't the only ones the Sith had dealt them.

Still, he couldn't keep out the guilt out of his voice. He hadn't been good enough or fast enough to save her in the end. "He cut her into pieces, you see. She stood in his way and he cut her down like so much meat. Trying to protect me when it should have been me protecting her."

There were indrawn breaths and even Skywalker looked ill. Janson's arm fell from the boy's arm and they both turned to Obi-Wan, listening to him remember that day.

"The Sith slime kept smiling through the whole thing, enjoying her pain as she tried not to scream and he was smiling…smiling until I shoved my saber into his chest. He didn't enjoy it so much after that. But he didn't stop, even when he must have known he was dying. Fighting until Qui-Gon cut off his head." A throat clogged tight with grief, he said softly, "But it was already too late for her."

"Master Qui-Gon didn't say anything about fighting a Sith." A glimmer of sympathy in his voice even as Skywalker pushed harder, more desperately to paint Obi-Wan as the enemy. "Besides, if it's true, then you'd have been able to fight the Sith on your own, you and the other Jedi. And Qui-Gon could've been here, helping us fight the other one. And Master Windu wouldn't have died and I'd be whole and Le'orath…."

Janson said sharply, "Anakin, enough. Qui-Gon told me about the Sith they fought. It sounded like they needed every Jedi there to take him down and if Sidious had survived it, it would have been far worse for everyone, not just you."

"Believe what you wish, Anakin. It won't change anything." Obi-Wan let out a long breath. He needed meditation desperately and the smallness of Skywalker's focus saddened him. It was if the boy couldn't get past his own losses to see that the cost to others had been just as high.

"You fought a Sith, then? He's dead?" Perhaps Janson's rebuke had been effective after all. Skywalker sounded almost contrite. Almost.

"Yes, he's dead." He'd had enough, though, of discussions and memories and he wanted to find his calm center again. Pushing past them both, he stood next to the boy, frowning into Skywalker's bantha-stubborn face.

"And you killed the apprentice." Pride flared there in the boy's eyes and a flicker of guilt, too. Perhaps one last try to get him to see that there was more than just his loss. "You helped to save the galaxy, Anakin, and to end the Sith legacy. But instead of accepting the sacrifices of others, all you can do is blame me because you didn't get your happy ending. And, unlike my apprentice, at least you lived."

Stunned, Skywalker did nothing as Obi-Wan wheeled past him, said nothing as he walked down the hallway, Janson following in his wake.

He had had enough for one day. He didn't look back to see if the boy had really understood what he'd been trying to say or not, just kept putting distance between them. But he could hear Janson's angry voice echoing back down the corridor. "Qui-Gon will have your hide for this, you idiot."

There was no answer.


	82. Chapter 43: May the Force part 2

**Chapter 43 – May the Force be with you**

**Part 2**

There was always an antiseptic smell in any Healer's hall; the one in the Sanctuary was no different. Even now as Qui-Gon walked briskly toward his wife's room, a mixture of reluctance and hope in his step, he could still sense it.

Under the perfume of flowers and the cleanliness of pine and far-off snows lingered the sickening tones of pain and gut and blood – the residue of the hall's real purpose but all the more unsettling for it.

At least, Le'orath wasn't in intensive care any longer.

As soon as he entered the hall, Healer Bors was hurrying toward him. "A word, Master Jinn."

He'd already spoken with the man several times about Le'orath's condition but something could have changed in the last few days. Shoving aside his impatience, Qui-Gon said, "How is she?"

"The surgery to restore some of her damaged organs went well. The cloned tissues are now in place and working as expected. I believe in time she will be able to have children again although it will be difficult for her. We would have to monitor her condition throughout the pregnancy but otherwise I see no impediment." The healer seemed almost smug but then his face turned solemn. "She may have trouble walking however. There was severe damage to her spine and nerves centers. I had hoped for better news for you when you returned but unfortunately it is not the case. Perhaps in time, things will change but at the moment…."

"It is better than I had hoped, Healer. I thank you for your efforts." He turned to go but Bors was not done yet.

"She refused to allow us to remove her scars, Qui-Gon, although I argued with her about it several times. She said they were part of her now." Shaking his head, Bors said, "I hope you will be able to change her mind. It's easy enough to do and it might help her find peace with what happened."

"I will try. But you know how stubborn she is."

"Qui-Gon, she's still fragile after all she's gone through and not a little confused with how to deal with it. Go softly with her."

"I understand." His own scars were hurting again. Pressing against his gut just a little to ease the pain, he said, "I will talk to her about it - carefully."

The healer was more observant than Qui-Gon might wish. Shoving a small container of pills into his hand, Bors said, "Pain medication and supplements for healing. Use them." When he started to protest, Bors just sent him a sharp frown. "Healer Leabe of the Jedi Temple contacted me about your injuries and Knight Kenobi's. I will expect both of you tomorrow morning for a consultation and physical therapy scheduling at the very least. Don't think that you can outstubborn me, either, Qui-Gon Jinn. I know where you live."

He knew that Bors was an immovable rock when it came to his patients' health. Rather than argue endlessly and lose in the end anyway, he nodded. "Of course. Tomorrow morning. And now may I see my wife?"

"As soon as you take your medication." Bors stood there, arms folded and waited for surrender.

Biting back a scathing reply, he scowled as he shoved the pills into his mouth and dry-swallowed. "Satisfied?"

Smiling – the man could be incredibly smug at times, Bors pointed down the corridor. "First door on your right. I believe she's awake."

Wheeling away, he didn't wait for the healer to finish talking. He'd had enough of conversation. It was time to face Le'orath.

* * *

The room was filled with light. A window looked out to the snow-capped mountains beyond and there were trumpet flowers just outside, their pale blossoms glowing among the greenery. An echo of the life they'd had together.

Le'orath was half-sitting in bed, propped up with pillows, staring out into the distance. The bandages were gone for the most part, although he could see a bulge of white on one side of her stomach and there were still tubes strung here and there and into the bandages. From this angle, he couldn't see much scarring, although there were Sith markings on her arm, raised welts that he knew would smooth out in time. Ugly ghosts on her skin.

But then she turned. There were burns down one side of her face and more markings peering out of the opening in her gown and down the other arm - Sith abominations seared into her.

Only weeks ago, he'd caressed her body, loved all of her, her flesh so smooth, warm, beloved and now….

What the Sith had done to her was written clear on her roughened skin and rippled cheek, the line of markings branded into her flesh. He knew. He'd seen it over the comm but here there were no wavering lines, no sheen of blue to hide what had been done to her or how badly she'd been hurt.

From one breath to the next, fury flooding him, rage coloring everything red and he wanted to kill that Sith bastard all over again. Unbelievably, no matter how absurd, he was angry at Anakin, too, for eradicating a monster that should have been his to destroy.

He must have made a choking noise as, without thought, he took a step closer.

Lifting her gaze, for a barest second, there was a flicker of longing in her eyes and warm relief and then her face hardened back into stone. "I thought I told you to stay away."

"Le'…." Struggling to push his anger aside, feeling the red drain away into the greys of worry, he said, "Le'orath?" But as he walked toward her, she flinched back, pulled the blankets closer to her chest.

"You would never listen, not you. No matter how much I begged." A layer of hatred or fury or grief, such strong emotion that he could feel it in the Force. She's endured so much and trying to deal with it had left her more bitter than he'd realized, even with his last communication with her. "Do you like what you see, Qui-Gon? Do you like what your _choices_ have wrought?"

"Le', my choices…." Hands reaching for her, trying to be as gentle as he could, he said, "My choices were never meant to hurt you, not like this."

A frown pulled at her scars, her face painted in red and white lines, as she snarled back at him, "Then what did you expect? That your leaving me was just a phase and you would come back all smiles and we'd go back to being the ideal couple?"

"You knew what I was when you married me."

He'd tried to warn her all those years ago and she hadn't listened, probably hadn't realized the possibility of sacrifice in those heady days. She'd had no idea and he could never explain it to her properly, not in a way she'd understand. The things he'd seen as a Jedi had been wondrous or terrifying, joyful or appalling, and she'd only known gentle Naboo.

"Yes, but not this. Not…." Arms wrapped around herself, huddled inward, she was barricaded against him. Her eyes flashed ferocity even as her voice thickened in pain. "Not some insane rsshak slime shoving agony into me, not… not losing our daughter like that while I begged him to stop."

"Le', if I had known, I…." If anything, his regret only angered her more.

She cut across his words. "No, I don't think so. You never were really here. Always the hero, always saving someone else while you let me…."

As she trailed off, clearly remembering something he could only guess at, he said softly, "Le'. It is what I do. You even encouraged me."

"And I paid the price for it!" Her head came up, her voice rising and then falling again, faltering, rough and unbelieving. "Did you know he laughed while he burned me, shoved his saber into my gut and twisted it? His eyes glowing with pleasure as he wrote his messages into my skin? He said that he'd come back and finish the job and all I could do was lie there and wait for more torture. Beg for death as my body bled agony. All those blacks and reds and unending pain."

He stepped closer, carefully so as not to startle her. He wanted to gather her into his arms and soothe the pain away but she'd never allow it, not like this. Instead, he said, "I would have done anything to save you from that."

"But you weren't here! Bendu Champion or Jedi Master or whatever the hell you are. You were off saving the rest of the galaxy." Her face a snarl of fury and grief, her cheeks wet with tears, she turned inward again. "And all I have left is mangled skin and… and nightmares and I wake up screaming your name and a daughter… a daughter never born." She looked up, gaze contemptuous. "And a husband who whines about duty."

"Le', I am so sorry."

Another step closer, almost within reach. He could see ripples of melted flesh, ghastly white against her flushed skin and the tear tracks down her ruined face. It didn't matter to him how she looked. She was Le', the only woman he'd ever love. Luminous beings, not crude matter, as Yoda would say. But he knew it mattered to her.

"Will sorry bring back our daughter? Will sorry fix my face and heal the wounds? Will sorry keep the nightmares away, the flashbacks, the pity in their eyes? I hear them whispering about me." She buried her face in her hands. Words muffled by grief and the fragility of a woman on the edge. "I can't do this, Qui-Gon, I can't bear to see your face and know that you left me, that I couldn't stop him, I couldn't stop him."

And then he was there, next to her, stroking her limp hair, a feather-light caress to her ruined skin.

She jerked back out of reach, wailing, "No, don't touch me. I can't let you touch me."

But he was persistent. He'd defied Jedi Masters and Sith Lords and this woman was more precious to him than his own life. Carefully, he gathered her close, let her cry into his chest. Her small fists were beating against him and then suddenly she was pulling at him, hands wound tight around his tunic, drawing him in.

Face buried against his neck, she was hoarse with grief. "I should have listened to Ben. He kept telling me that the bad man was coming but I thought it was just a reaction to you leaving. And I wasn't fast enough. I tried to run away and he cut me off and I thought he'd hurt Ben and I tried so hard to stop him and all he did was laugh, just laugh as I screamed." She gave a laugh of her own, a sharp cruel thing but she refused to look up, just pushed herself further into him.

Stoking her hair, he kissed the ruined skin near her temple. "Le', hush now. Hush. It's over. He'll never hurt you again."

"Why weren't you there?" His tunic was soaking with tears but it didn't matter. She hadn't pushed him away.

"I thought I was doing the right thing. I was doing the right thing but I should never have left you unguarded like that." In his heart of hearts, he knew that he'd still have to follow the Force where it led, no matter what but at least he could make sure she was safe. "I never will again."

"He killed our daughter."

They'd both lost a child but she had been the one who had carried her, felt her moving within and now there was nothing there but a life cut short and an empty womb. Another death that they both mourned. Bors might think that she could have more eventually but they would never replace the daughter they'd lost.

"Yes, she's gone and Mace Windu and two others on Naboo." He nodded, kissing her hair, kissing her ravaged cheek. "I promise you, Le'orath, I'll never leave you unguarded again."

"I have terrible things in my skin." She shook her head, dug her face into his neck as if wanting to bury herself there. A whisper of horror against him or shame, he wasn't sure, as she said, "He told me what they meant as he did it, laughing about it, disgusting things, debased, and how I'd have them for as long as I lived and then he laughed again and said it wouldn't be that long but that you'd enjoy reading them when you found me."

Bile rising in his throat at what she'd had to endure, knowing what the symbols meant, poisonous things, all he could do is embrace her, soothe the fears still lingering in her voice. "And I knew he was playing with me. I knew he'd kill me soon enough but just the thought…."

She pulled back, looked at him with disbelief, flinched as he stroked her face along the white knot of scars. "How can you bear to touch me?"

"My Le'orath, you are ever beautiful to me, no matter what is written there." His hand pressed lightly, the feel of ruin beneath his fingers but still it was her, still the woman he loved. He smiled, hopefully reassuring, and guided her back to him, enclosing her in his arms.

"The healers tried to tell me that they could fix it, make them go away but they'll always be there, hiding under my skin, waiting in the darkness to strike, such filth." A long, slow sigh, she sounded so exhausted, achingly fragile. "I don't think I could bear it if…."

"I love you, Le'. Remember that and we will get through this."

And as she slumped against him, he knew that whatever demons had driven her to reject him were beginning to fade. It would take a long time to heal but in the end, they would be stronger for it.

* * *

It wasn't until the afternoon light deepened that she quieted enough for sleep. But at last, Qui-Gon left her resting, if not peacefully, at least less agitated than before. He knew he'd need to talk further with the healers; her fears of what the scars meant might needed to be addressed at some point and they'd not even talked about her walking again but for now, he was just glad that she hadn't turned him away for good.

Besides, his son might have heard of his return by now. It was past time to seek him out.

Between the Healer's hall and the outer buildings, the Sanctuary garden beckoned. It had always been a place of beauty. Modeled on the Temple grounds, it was a tangible memory of the home they had all lost when forced from the Jedi Order. But it was also somewhere for the young ones to thrive, with bushes and trees and hiding places made for innocent games.

In one corner, he could see Shmi sitting on a bench, blue shawl around her to stave off the chill in the air. She was smiling, watching the foliage near her shake a bit. There was a rush of childish laughter but no young face peered out when she called softly to him. His son was hiding, a boy finding solace in play.

As he approached, she straightened, opening her mouth as if to say something. But he put his fingers to his lips and she grinned, nodding toward the bushes.

He had planned on playing with Ben, maybe a game of catch-me or just wrestling in the grass, trying to connect again with him after all the turmoil and loss in his young life. But his son had other ideas.

The bush shivered; there was a shout. "Daddy!"

And his arms were suddenly full of wiggling child.

As Ben tried to climb up, the jostling painful against his chest, his son's arms were wrapped so tightly around his throat that he could barely breathe but it didn't matter. They were together again and it felt wonderful.

Stumbling backwards, he managed to sit down on the bench next to Shmi, his Ben still hugging him with the strength of ten men it would seem. There was more laughter, breathless giggles and soft, sticky kisses as his boy tried to burrow into him. All the while, he kept saying, "Daddy, daddy."

All Qui-Gon could do was soothe him, caressing the messy hair, breathing in the smell of earth and grass and his young son. It was a joyous moment.

Beside him, Shmi was smiling. "He is glad you are home, Qui-Gon. He missed you very much."

"I can see that," Qui-Gon said, chuckling.

"Daddy, are you staying? Did you see Momma? Is she still mad at you?" Said in a breathless rush, Ben kept gripping onto him as if he'd never let go.

"Ben, slow down, son." Qui-Gon ruffled his hair, giving his boy a quick kiss and a squeeze. "I'm here to stay and while your mother is still a bit mad at me, we will go home when she's better, okay?"

Nodding, he buried his face into Qui-Gon's neck. "There was a bad man, Daddy."

He'd hoped that Ben would never know just how terrifying the universe could be; he had wanted to shelter his little boy and he'd wished for him only good things but that would never happen; that was fantasy. Ben would have to grow up in the real world.

But still he had hoped that his son would have learned that later, not now, not so young as this.

Pushing him back a bit, looking into Ben's frightened eyes, he said gently, "Yes, there was a bad man but he's gone now. And I'm home and Momma's going to get better and we will be together."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Shmi nodding, looking relieved at the news. She must have been worried about Le'orath, too, and now he was able to reassure her that things would be well again. But before he could say anything else, something must have caught her eye. She turned slightly, looking over his shoulder.

As he twisted around, he saw Anakin striding toward him, a wide smile lighting his young face. "Master!"

He'd meant to seek his apprentice out once he'd spent some time with Ben but this was as good a time as any. Smiling back, he motioned him forward, one hand raised in welcome. "Padawan, it gladdens my heart to see you."

Ben still tightly clinging to his neck, he couldn't stand but it didn't matter. Anakin enveloped him in a hug that threatened to outdo his son's and it was only the boy's wiggling that reminded Ani to let go.

When he stood back and looked at Qui-Gon again, Anakin was bright with happiness. "I thought I'd never see you again after Kenobi took you away. I'm so glad you are home."

"Home to stay, Anakin." Relieved to see his apprentice safe after all they'd been through, he couldn't help but notice Ani's gloved hand suddenly clench as Qui-Gon's gaze swept over him. By the flush of humiliation creeping across his face, Anakin must have realized that he had seen the loss of his arm.

But it would not do. There was no shame in injuries, not against a Sith. Qui-Gon said firmly, "A wound taken in honor and duty isn't something to hide, young one, nor is it to be worn as a badge of courage. It simply is."

"You weren't there, Master. I tried to stop him but he was so strong in the darkside. I couldn't…I couldn't."

In Anakin's voice, Qui-Gon could hear the frustration, the sense of failure, the anger deeply denied but still thrumming just below the surface, all waiting to erupt again. Anakin had always been too emotional for his own good and now it was driving him again, perhaps to blame himself for things beyond his control.

"But you did, Anakin, in the end just as we did with the Sith Lord."

A word of approval would usually soothe the young man but not this time. "That Kenobi person told me about the fight you were in." For a moment, Anakin scowled at him, displeased about something. His sulky tone wasn't much better. "You could have told me about it. He said, well never mind what he said. He's wrong."

"Why do you think he is wrong?" Qui-Gon didn't like the way Anakin suddenly evaded his gaze.

"Why do you always have to take his side?" As if Qui-Gon knew anything about what they had quarreled about and it was obvious that they had quarreled. But before he could ask, Anakin said hotly, "It's his fault that you were there anyway. You could have been killed and it would have been his fault."

His son shivered and buried himself deeper in Qui-Gon's arms. This was not a conversation to have around a child who had just gone through what he had. He said sharply, "Now is not the time for this."

At least Anakin didn't protest the rebuke. He must have seen Ben's reaction as well.

But as he tried to hand his son over to Shmi and find another place more private to talk with Anakin, Ben said, "Daddy, no. I don't want you to go."

He laid one hand on his son's back, saying softly, "I just need to talk to Anakin a bit. I won't be long."

"Please, Daddy, I'll be good. Please, don't go."

Ordinarily, he wouldn't give in to that kind of childish blackmail but he'd been too long away from Ben and he had missed him fiercely. He was torn between his son and his apprentice. He knew they both needed him; they were both precious to him, even if Anakin was being foolish at the moment. But in the end, it was too painful to see the look of fear on Ben's face and so he gave a long sigh and surrendered to the inevitable. "Anakin, I will talk with you after evening meal. Meet me in training room 3."

Another squeeze around his neck and he could tell that Ben was happy. Anakin was not. But there was nothing to be done about it at the moment. He watched as Anakin bowed and walked away, kicking at the grass and mumbling under his breath. In some ways, Anakin was even more a child than Ben but that was a conversation for another time.

As Anakin disappeared around the corner, Qui-Gon turned back to his son and said, "I know a game you would like. Shall we play?"

* * *

He found out later why Anakin was so disturbed. When he went to ask where Obi-Wan was staying, Pavel Janson filled him in on the argument. He was not pleased.

Training room 3 was noisy with movement. Anakin had chosen a long wooden staff, and was busy demolishing the room or at least attempting to do so. For a moment, Qui-Gon just watched. For all of Ani's faults, he was a superb fighter. Flowing with the Force and flying high, running up the walls, flipping over and landing perfectly every time, in many ways, Anakin reminded him of Obi-Wan.

They had both had trouble in their apprenticeships; he had to admit that it was more his fault than Obi-Wan's but with Anakin, he had always been so intense that it made it difficult to train him, especially when it came to his emotions. They seemed to burn sun-fire bright just beneath the surface.

And now he had to talk with Anakin and make him see that attacking Obi-Wan verbally as he had done was nothing short of unacceptable.

Waiting until the young man had centered himself again, he strode forward, handed him a towel. "You are progressing well with training, I see."

"Master Windu gave me a few lessons while you were away. When I wasn't piling rock or listening to him lecture me incessantly." Muffed as it was while he scrubbed his face clean, still his voice was full of hostility and a kind of wariness. He must have realized that Qui-Gon would find out about the fight eventually and now he was waiting for the lecture that was sure to come.

"Mace was a good man and a brilliant fighter," Qui-Gon said softly, a mild rebuke.

But Anakin turned away, dropped the towel into the bin. "Yes."

He stood there, his back to Qui-Gon, with rigid stance and clenched hands, the line of muscles corded at his neck. Anger seemed to cloud around him. Another thing not acceptable in a Bendu apprentice.

Anakin never made it easy. But he wasn't here for easy; he was here to guide him into understanding and hopefully more compassion towards Obi-Wan than he'd shown up to now.

Folding his arms, trying to use just the right tone to let Anakin know how displeased he was, he said, "I talked to Janson. He said that you quarreled with Knight Kenobi and that you were out of line about it."

Anakin whirled on him, face flushed. "I don't see why Kenobi is here. Hasn't he caused enough problems?"

Qui-Gon let the moment stretch between them, standing there silent and watchful. He hoped that Anakin would calm down and think about what he was saying but when it was clear his apprentice was only holding onto his anger, he couldn't let it continue. "If it hadn't been for Obi-Wan, I would not have survived. He saved my life twice over these last weeks."

Apparently, that meant nothing to his foolish apprentice. His voice was rising, his hands clenching and unclenching as he said, "But it was his fault that you needed saving in the first place."

"Anakin…." Qui-Gon frowned, but before he could say anything else, Anakin was already interrupting him.

"He took you away! Forced you to go with him, Master, and made things worse here, too." Holding up his gloved hand, his eyes black with emotion, he snarled out, "Because of him, Le'orath is lying in the Healer's hall and I'm _crippled_ and Master Windu is dead."

So Janson was right after all. Anakin was blaming Obi-Wan for what happened on Naboo.

Trying to get him past the anger, hoping that an explanation would help him see what had truly happened, Qui-Gon said, "I do not see how you can blame Obi-Wan for what happened. Mace was there with you. And you killed the Sith apprentice."

Anakin kept shaking his head, scowling, looking at him and then away again. "You are the best swordsman in the Bendu by far, better than Master Windu, better even than Master Yoda. If you hadn't been arrested, you'd have been here to kill that slime before it got too bad. We all know that it's his fault!"

"Did you say that to Obi-Wan?" Appalled, for a moment, he couldn't speak, merely stared at him. "Anakin?"

Shamefaced and belligerent, Anakin raised his chin, daring him to disapprove. "Some of it."

It took several breaths, deep and long, before he could find his calm again. Anakin was completely out of line, even if what he'd said had been true. But for Ani to treat someone who had done his duty and more this way was inexcusable.

Drawing himself up, he saw Anakin flinching back, still angry but determined to fight back if necessary. He had courage but it was not enough. He needed to find compassion, too, if he were ever to be truly Bendu.

"Obi-Wan has saved my life more times than I can count, and always, _always_ without regard to his own well-being. You owe him an apology."

A sharp shake of his head, that bantha-stubborn look on his face, Anakin said, "But he's the one who took you away. He's the one who put you in danger and us, too."

Even now, after all these years, the boy still didn't understand.

"Anakin, I go where the Force wants me to go." His eyes widened as Qui-Gon stepped forward, placed one hand on Ani's tense shoulder, shook him slightly as if trying to get it through his thick skull about the Force and his place in it.

"Not Obi-Wan, you or Le' or anyone else made me leave. Only the Force. And if you can't see that, I have failed as a teacher."

Something must have gotten through to Anakin because he looked away, down at his hands and back toward Qui-Gon. But he was still sullen. "I know that but the Force guides us. It doesn't make us do anything and Kenobi arrested you and…." He stumbled to a stop. He must have known that he'd lost.

Qui-Gon let go, folded his arms again across his chest, much as it pained him to do so. The games he'd played with Ben were beginning to take their toll. He ached but he knew it wasn't just from that. Anakin made his heart heavy.

"Apprentice Skywalker, do you remember what is written over the entrance to the Sanctuary?" he said in his most formal tone.

Mouth flattening, face dour, he must have known what was coming. Still, he straightened up, facing Qui-Gon squarely. "Serenity and Compassion - Twin Paths to the Light."

"You have shown neither serenity in your reaction to this nor compassion toward Knight Kenobi. He is here on my invitation to heal from wounds he sustained while battling the Sith." He drew out the moment, emphasizing his displeasure in a long, hard look. "You will apologize."

"Yes, Master." At least this time, Anakin knew better than to talk back.

Another heartbeat or two of silence. "And when we are done, we will talk further of failure - mine in training you properly and yours in refusing to learn the lesson."

"Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon knew that their troubles were not over, might never be with Anakin's petulance and his ability to ignore anything he didn't want to face. But that was for another day. Right now, it was time for Ani to meet with Obi-Wan and see him for what he truly was – a gentle, compassionate man who had only done his duty, a man hurt and in sore need of a friend.

* * *

There was no further discussion as they walked toward Obi-Wan's quarters. Anakin was still nursing whatever wounded pride he had, kept sending Qui-Gon glances as if to figure out how much poodoo he was in. Quite a bit if Qui-Gon had any say in it.

However, unexpectedly, Obi-Wan wasn't upset. When they arrived, he was calm and even seemed happy to see them both, an odd reaction considering what had happened but it would make things easier. "Knight Kenobi, a moment of your time. I believe Anakin has something to say to you."

"Of course." One hand sweeping back, he gestured them inside.

The door barely closed when Qui-Gon turned to his foolish apprentice. "Anakin."

Ani gave him a hurt, unhappy look, but bowed nevertheless toward Obi-Wan. "My master has reminded me that it was the Force, not you that made him leave his family and me and…," he stopped, chewing on his lip a bit and sending Qui-Gon another glare, then said, "And while I… I apologize if I have accused you wrongly," he finished in a rush.

Obi-Wan's mouth quirked a bit, as if amused but he sounded solemn. "An apology unwillingly given is nevertheless an apology and one I will accept."

Looking ready to hurry out the door before he got into another argument, one foot already turning aside, Anakin stopped when Obi-Wan nodded to him. "In one regard, he is correct, Qui-Gon. If I hadn't taken you to Coruscant, things would have been very different."

There was a triumphant gleam in Anakin's eyes but Qui-Gon wasn't about to let it go. "Yes, the Sith Lord might still be Supreme Chancellor and the Jedi Order destroyed." His gaze hard on Ani, a reminder of what he'd tried to explain earlier, he said, "We went where the Force needed us to go."

Anakin seemed to process that a moment, obviously wanting to turn what Obi-Wan had said to his advantage but then he stilled, looked at both of them with frowned astonishment.

"Supreme Chancellor? Palpatine was the Sith Lord?"

"Yes, and he was very strong. Traps throughout his office and willing to sacrifice anyone, even his own allies, to get what he wanted. It was a near thing. A single misstep and he might have won after all," Qui-Gon said.

"I bet Padmé is pretty upset. He was helping her with something for Naboo. And I bet the Senate wasn't happy when they found out." Anakin was still scowling, still processing the ramifications of it all.

"No, the Senate was not happy."

At least Anakin didn't look like he was going to start arguing again, not now. The boy was too volatile by half and there were times when Qui-Gon wondered if he was the right master for him after all. The stark contrast between his two apprentices did not do Anakin any favors either. But comparing them was not wise. It would only foster more resentment. Anakin was clearly jealous or else he'd not have come up with such ridiculous accusations.

"Obi-Wan, I hope that this matter with Anakin is behind us. I thought I'd taught him better but it would seem I am in need of lessons as well. I can assure you that it will not happen again." His face stony, his tone adamant, it would not do to have his apprentice think he could get away with it. "Isn't that right, Anakin?"

"Yes, Master." The glower was back, but he knew that Anakin would do as he ordered, if a bit reluctantly.

Putting one hand on Qui-Gon's arm for a moment, just a touch to let him know that he wasn't upset, Obi-Wan said, "Qui-Gon, I know that he wasn't trying to help me. He has his own demons to face but Anakin's accusations have helped me see things more clearly."

Even Anakin looked surprised.

Obi-Wan bowed his head, looked away, out past the window lining one wall and into the bright snow-clad mountains beyond. "I've been selfish in my reactions. I allowed Atel's death and Sle'fey's manipulations to affect me more than I should have and it was only when I was, well berating Anakin that I realized I'd been doing the same thing."

He glanced back at them both, a slight smile lighting his face before turning solemn again. "I was also blaming others, allowing my emotions to blind me to what was. Refusing to accept that there were things I couldn't change, that I can only go forward, not back." He looked at Qui-Gon, reminded him of their conversation only that morning, "The path to wisdom."

It was what he'd been hoping for. Obi-Wan was finally seeing his way clear, finally realizing that he had to move on from the lives lost and from the betrayal he felt. It was an enormous relief.

"The path to wisdom, indeed." Smiling, he wanted to laugh about it, share in the joy he felt at the change in his old padawan. A cause for celebration.

But beside him, Anakin was half-scowling, half-bewildered. He must have thought that Obi-Wan was crazy for letting him off the hook like that. He probably didn't realize that he wasn't, that Qui-Gon was still unhappy with what he'd done and that there would be long and difficult training sessions ahead.

"You are a generous man, Obi-Wan." A warm squeeze on Obi-Wan's good arm and then he turned back to Anakin. "However, my apprentice acted selfishly, against the tenets of the Bendu."

Nodding, Obi-Wan said, "Yes, and he will need guidance to find his own path again. But helping me to find mine is a first step."

"A generous man indeed, Knight Kenobi." He turned to Anakin, nodded toward the door. "It has been a long day. I will see you tomorrow in therapy. Healer Bors has already been after me about it and I'm sure you will not escape his clutches. Good night, Obi-Wan."

A bow and as he left, Obi-Wan smiled, one that lit his eyes. Qui-Gon knew then that it would be all right after all. Even if it had taken Anakin acting a selfish fool to do it.

* * *

The next few days were a whirlwind of activity. Suddenly everyone wanted to talk to him, to hear about the battle with the Sith and speculate about what would happen with the Republic and the Jedi. He could not turn them away but between the long discussions, there were missions to oversee and repairs to order, long lists of things that had been put off too long while things were in such turmoil. And then there were the lessons with Anakin that often left him exhausted.

Pavel had done a good job running the Bendu while Qui-Gon was away. His vision for the future of the group and his organizational skills as well as the way he could soothe prospective clients went a long way to filling the gaping hole left by the death of Mace Windu. Qui-Gon thought it was about time that others took over the running of the Bendu Philosophical Group. New ideas, new ways of doing things.

Taking care to listen to the healers, working on the therapy every day, meeting for meditation with both Obi-Wan and Anakin – although even when Ben joined them, Anakin remained bantha-stubborn, long moments with Le'orath, he'd almost forgotten the problems the Jedi Order were facing.

When he had time in between meetings and therapy and games with Ben - Obi-Wan often playing, too, once his son grew comfortable around him, Qui-Gon flew out to his home. He'd hoped to clean up whatever would need to be done so that when Le' was better, they'd be able to move back. However, the barn was a mess. More importantly, the kitchen would have to be gutted. The Sith had deliberately melted the coldbox, destroyed cabinets and in one corner, there had been a fire. Luckily it had not spread but the place was smoke-ruined. Another problem to deal with.

But perhaps it was for the best. Le'orath would certainly react badly to a place where she'd found such pain. Better to change its appearance to something she could accept as her own, someplace safe enough that she wouldn't wake up screaming from the memories.

When he'd mentioned it to her later, she only nodded and turned away. Still not up to talking about it, she focused, they'd focused, on getting her well again. The bandages gone, her first steps toward learning to walk, it was a time of frustration and hope.

She was even willing to speak with people, more than just family, and Qui-Gon, heaving a sigh of relief, arranged to have her eat in the dining hall.

It turned into a party of sorts.

At first Le' didn't want anyone to see her scars, said that they were too hideous for others to accept her but she'd forgotten than most of the Bendu were former Jedi. Luminous creatures they all were, and the flesh wasn't as important as what was inside. After the first few people came up to her and started talking about everyday things, she relaxed.

It was wonderful to behold.

There was one tense moment. Obi-Wan had known that Le'orath had never forgiven him for taking Qui-Gon to Coruscant but he approached her, nonetheless, carefully and cautiously.

"My lady, it is good to see you again."

"I wish I could say the same, Kenobi." Her face tightened, the unscarred side of it at least and she was glaring at him with barely checked animosity. "You took my husband from me. And because he was gone, we were defenseless against that rsshak slime."

Qui-Gon started to protest but Obi-Wan seemed to take it in stride. "Anakin accused me of the same thing."

"Yes, I heard." She refused to look at Qui-Gon, stared straight at Obi-Wan instead, green-fire in her eyes. "I'm still angry, white-hot rage doesn't begin to describe it but the fair side of me, buried though it might be, recognizes that I might… I might be wrong."

Obi-Wan bowed his head a moment in acknowledgement and then said softly, "I am sorry. If I could change what happened, I would."

"Yes, I'm sure you would." Wrapping her arms about her, hands splayed wide to cover as many Sith symbols as she could, she frowned upward, looking first at Qui-Gon, then down to her still-weak body and finally back up at Obi-Wan. "Qui-Gon tells me that without your help, he would have died."

He nodded slowly. "Yes, my lady."

It only seemed to make her angrier. Her fingers clawing tight against her, emotion stark in every breath she took, as she spoke, she watched his face. It almost looked as if she wanted to know that her words cut deep.

"For that, most would say that I should forgive you but it won't be today. I can't stop my husband from seeing you but I don't have to endure your presence. So forgive me if I tell you to get the hell away from me."

Obi-Wan's gaze flicked to Qui-Gon and then back to Le'orath, resignation in his every move. Bowing, he said, "My apologies, my lady, Master Jinn." And then he walked away.

"Le', he didn't deserve that." He was appalled and yet not surprised. Le'orath could hold a grudge longer than most if she thought she was right.

Surprisingly, she let out a long, slow sigh and slumped down, weariness creeping into her voice. "Yes, I know. And someday I'll be sane enough to ask his forgiveness. But not yet."

"Beloved, you are saner than you think." She must have been so tired with all that anger still churning inside her but it didn't really excuse what she had done. "But if he joins the Bendu, you will have to treat him with respect at least."

Grabbing onto his hand, she gave it a little tug. "I will. Now take me back to the room and then go and talk with your friends. I'm a bit tired and it's been a long day."

It didn't take much. She had overextended herself and she fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

* * *

Master Yoda returned a day later, to much enthusiasm. There were endless questions but he pushed them aside, hobbled over to where Qui-Gon was standing and tugged on his tunic.

As he knelt before the old one, looking more weary and unhappy that he had seen him in many years, Yoda said, "Turn to the dark side, he had. Aligned with the Sith. Sorry am I, Qui-Gon."

That could mean only one thing. Dooku was dead. Qui-Gon knew that Yoda would never allow his former master to escape once he'd embraced the dark.

Qui-Gon nodded, bowing his head for a moment in memory. "Yes, so am I."

He knew that others might expect him to be more distraught at the news but they didn't know how wretched his apprenticeship had been. He mourned for what could have been and let the rest go. Dooku had seen him through to knighthood and that would have to be enough.

As he rose, Obi-Wan came closer, bending down, his face lit with delight. "Master Yoda, it is good to see you again after all these years."

Yoda leaned forward, touched Obi-Wan's face, smiling as he said, "Ah, young Kenobi. Still making trouble for your old master, are you?"

"No, Master. Now he makes trouble for me." Obi-Wan grinned and it was a pleasure to see him so light-hearted. The rest and meditation as well as interacting with the other Bendu seemed to be doing him a galaxy's worth of good.

Yoda just humphed but it was enough.

From then on, Obi-Wan would often meet with Yoda, no doubt talking about the Order and his part in it. Qui-Gon hoped that the old master would help him find peace in whatever decision he'd finally make.

He did not press for it, however. Obi-Wan seemed more and more at home with the Bendu, interacting with Ben when they were eating or playing or in meditation, finding new friends and old, even getting Anakin to relax a bit. He was often smiling and he looked more rested every day. There was plenty of time for decisions.

* * *

And then there was no time left at all.

Qui-Gon had just returned from another exhausting meeting with Janson and some of the other Bendu, a matter having to do with the slave laws in the Republic when he stumbled across Yoda and Obi-Wan talking quietly in the dining hall.

Gathering food for a late-meal, he walked over to them, sat down just as he heart Obi-Wan say, "…the same one again. The same chair, the same circular room."

"These visions. Strong in the Force are you, young one." Yoda's gaze, solemn, flicked to Qui-Gon and then back again to Obi-Wan. "Need you, the Jedi do."

Shaking his head, he said, "But I have a place here."

"Indeed you do, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon wasn't happy. It was almost as if Yoda were trying to persuade his old padawan to return to the Jedi. While it was Obi-Wan's decision, he honestly didn't want him to leave. It had taken a decade to finally reconnect and he'd be damned if he'd let the bond between them disappear again. "And what is this old reprobate been telling you?"

"Old I am not. But seen many things, I have." Yoda always seemed to know what Qui-Gon was feeling. Now was no different. "Obi-Wan's strength in the Force glows brightly. An asset to the Bendu he would be."

"I know that. I've been letting him figure that out for himself."

Qui-Gon was tired and he knew Yoda had more to say but he could feel something, a flicker of movement in the air, a hint of the wind that blows between worlds. The Force was beginning to stir.

Yoda must have felt it, too. "Need his strength, the Jedi do. More than Bendu." Then he nodded toward the entrance. "Even as we speak, change comes."

There were whispers, growing louder in the room as Pavel Janson talked excitedly with several of the other Bendu. As more and more of them gathered around him, his gestures grew bolder, more animated. When he saw the three of them, he waved them over.

Janson was almost shaky, as if he couldn't believe it, as if he knew something might be coming and yet he still could not accept it. Turning toward them, he took a deep breath, looked at Obi-Wan and said, "The Jedi are leaving Coruscant. They are breaking their long tradition of aligning themselves with the Republic. As you said, Qui-Gon, they are going independent. Just like us, just like the Bendu."

For one heart-stopping moment, no one spoke. Then all at once, everyone was talking. Everyone except Obi-Wan.

There were a thousand questions, a thousand more and yet few answers. It would seem that the Order was moving off-planet, returning to their roots on Tython. There was a temple there, a little shabby but still usable and they weren't cutting off all ties with the Republic, just changing the fundamental way they dealt with them. No longer would they be funded but the services they provided would be paid for, just as with the Bendu.

In fact, Master Sle'fey himself had contacted Janson about the Bendu's structure and perhaps renewing the bonds between the two groups. He'd also specifically asked if Knight Kenobi was settling in and if he might be a liaison between them.

With that, everyone turned to Obi-Wan.

He looked stricken, blinking, his face already a mask as if trying to process it all and failing. When he realized that Janson wanted an answer, he said, "I am not sure. There is much to think on."

Obviously, Pavel had expected him to accept at once. He looked taken aback for a moment and then when Obi-Wan said nothing else, he turned away to answer other questions already starting to bubble amongst the crowd.

It was the perfect solution, though. Sle'fey was wise enough apparently, or manipulative enough to think that Obi-Wan would likely jump at the chance, especially after their confrontation on Coruscant. It would help keep Obi-Wan on Naboo and he'd still have ties to the Jedi. The best of both worlds.

But when he turned again to say so to Obi-Wan, the man had disappeared.

* * *

Qui-Gon found him later, in the gardens, staring off toward the distant mountains, a white trumpet flower in his hand. The petals had already been shredded from constant handling, Obi-Wan's busy fingers turning it over and over again.

He didn't say anything, just sat down next to Obi-Wan, and waited for him to speak. It didn't take long.

"I've been fighting it, Qui-Gon. I've been having visions for days now, always the same thing. A smaller version of the Jedi Council and me in it. Arguing with Sle'fey and his other cronies, sometimes winning and sometimes not." Letting out a weary sigh, Obi-Wan turned to look at him. "Always the same."

He hadn't known. Obi-Wan had kept it from him.

"It could be nightmares or your mind trying to make sense of things." Even as he said it, he knew that he'd already lost.

Obi-Wan snorted softly at that. "You've always told me that the Force guides us on the path and we should follow it and now you are telling me it's merely dreams. Even you know better than that."

Now that the time had come, Qui-Gon didn't know what to say. It hurt to think that Obi-Wan had been wrestling with this for a while and not told him; he supposed Yoda was a good substitute but still it stung.

Yet while Master Yoda might say that the future was always in motion, sometimes the visions of things to come were accurate. Qui-Gon could feel the rightness of it, even as his heart grew heavy with loss.

Throat tight, feeling as if Obi-Wan were already gone, he said softly, "When will you leave?"

Looking out again to the mountains just starting to turn pink in the fading light and then frowning down at his feet, dropping the flower he held into the grass, white pulp among the green, he said, "Tonight. As soon as I can get transport."

"So soon?" He didn't want to think about what he'd do tomorrow without Obi-Wan there to chide Anakin, to play a game of catch-me with Ben, to share meditations and laughter and silence.

"Yes, I think I've been here too long already. The peace of this place, your calm guidance, Ben's childish laughter, even Anakin's sulks would keep me here if I could. But the longer I stay, the harder it will be to leave." He rubbed at his shoulder a moment and then scrubbed at his face a moment. "I don't want to, Qui-Gon, but when did my wants ever have anything to do with it?"

As Qui-Gon stood, he reached out, one hand waiting to pull Obi-Wan up. Hands met in friendship and trust and a thousand other things they'd been together; he squeezed slightly, trying to say everything in a single touch, wanting his old padawan to know how much he'd miss him. And then he let Obi-Wan go.

"I'll help you pack."

* * *

There wasn't much else to say. As they stood on the steps of the Sanctuary, the speeder waiting for final goodbyes, Ben and Anakin and Yoda stood beside Qui-Gon, watching Obi-Wan throw his pack into the back seat.

He was already dressed in Jedi tunics, his lightsaber gleaming in the dusky light. Overhead one of Naboo's moons was shedding brilliance across the scene, casting Obi-Wan's face into luminescence and shadow. But it made it easier to hide the loss in Qui-Gon's eyes.

Master Yoda was the first to say goodbye. As Obi-Wan kneeled before him, his three claws gently touched his face as he said, "This is not the end, Obi-Wan, but the beginning. May the Force be with you always." Then as Obi-Wan thanked him for all he'd done, he hobbled away.

Anakin was subdued. It could be that he'd finally seen Obi-Wan not as the enemy but a brother in arms, having more things in common with him than he'd realized. But he said none of that, merely shook Obi-Wan's hand. "I'll take care of him."

Then it was just Ben and Qui-Gon.

Hiccuping, one hand fisting in his eye as if trying to hold in the tears, Ben didn't seem to understand why Obi-Wan was leaving. "You are coming back, aren't you? You need to come back for me."

"I will be back. I promise. I can't let your daddy win every argument." He gave Ben a little smile. "I'll miss you, too, little one." He bent down and let Ben wrap his arms around him, giving him a sniffled kiss on the cheek and then Qui-Gon took his hand and pulled him away.

Qui-Gon, too, was having trouble keeping his emotions from spilling over. He'd lost Obi-Wan once. He didn't want to do it again but he knew a Jedi's life and sometimes, sometimes the Force had other plans.

There was a final clasp of hands, a tight hug. Obi-Wan spoke one last time. "May the Force be with you." Then he drove away.

For a long time, Qui-Gon strained to listen, the sounds of the speeder echoing in the drive and then it faded into breezes whispering among the soft leaves and the low mumble of forest toads. And silence.

Young Ben's hand crept into his own. It was sticky with sweets; Obi-Wan had plied the boy with them earlier much to Qui-Gon's dismay but he could not deny him this last thing. His son pulled at him and he knelt down next to the boy.

"Don't be sad, Daddy. He will be back. He said so." The boy leaned in, looked at him for a moment, worry in his eyes. It was clear he didn't want Qui-Gon to be upset and he pushed himself closer, gave him a quick kiss as if that would make things all better. Sometimes it did but not today.

"Things change, Ben. I know Obi-Wan will try but…." He didn't want to spoil Ben's belief in Obi-Wan's return but the reality was that it was unlikely. He was already feeling the hole where Obi-Wan once fit in his world.

Ben just shook his head, patted Qui-Gon's chest. "It's okay. I know he will be back. I'm going to be his… his pada…wan?"

Rocking back, he said sharply, "Did he ask you?"

A wide grin and a giggle, looking at Qui-Gon as if he'd said something funny, he gave him another soft pat. "No, Daddy, don't be silly. I saw it in my dreams." Then he pulled away, started tugging at Qui-Gon's hand. "I'm hungry."

For a moment, he just knelt there, astonishment and growing joy blossoming in his chest. Obi-Wan would be back. Obi-Wan would be Ben's master. It was too much to think on but he liked the rightness of it – the circle complete, not broken as it had been for so many years.

Another tug on his hand as Ben insisted, "Daddy, come on. I'm hungry."

With a smile, he pulled his son into his arms and stood. As Ben settled in, he looked back once more into the empty courtyard, breezes wafting through the trees, the smell of mountain snows and flowers and green grass scenting the air.

Qui-Gon turned, wrapping himself around his wiggling child and walked away.

And then there was silence.

The end.

* * *

**I want to thank Laurie and especially Shaindl for putting me on the right path with this incredibly long story. It took 9 years of my life and while I'm happy I wrote it, it's time to move on to other things. Merlin! Thanks so much for reading.**


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